ARACHNOPHOBIA
by Lances
Summary: VxK/KxV? Vash takes care of his spiteful and reluctant brother. Knives must accept the situation since he's so badly injured. Biting words, tension and one broken butterfly. Question is: which one? Innocent, uncorrupted souls shouldn't read further.
1. Underneath the Endless Blue Sky, Part 2

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Trigun, it belongs to Yashuhiro Nightow who created it. No money is being made with this story; it's for the entertainment purposes only. No rights to the characters and places in this story are claimed. THEY ARE NOT MINE.

**WARNINGS: Possible Yaoi (aka slash aka twincest KnivesxVash). I'm not sure yet. You have been warned. **I don't much appreciate idiotic, non-constructive flames that have nothing more to say than 'go jump off a cliff'. Been there, done that, still a gay hag. Sorry.

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**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 1: Underneath the Endless Blue Sky, Part Deux**

Vash the Stampede had never before bothered to consider the actual weight of anything. His strenght was not very easily swayed by heavy objects, or light, for that matter. He remembered a time when he'd been carrying a rusty wreck of a car with Meryl Stryfe and Milly Thompson still sitting on it, and he supposed that was by far the heaviest object he'd yet had to carry on his shoulders. However, despite the seemingly hard effort to heave the car into the nearest city, the only thing he'd been suffering from had been _thirst_ –not physical exhaustion.

Things had changed, however. Not even the cheerful thought that he'd been able to lift Nicholas D. Wolfwood's heavy crucifix cannon with one injured hand from the ground to shoot at his brother could make him forget the excruciating tiredness he now felt when carrying one Millions Knives on his shoulder.

"Aw, come on, brother!" Vash moaned. "Try to be a little less heavy, will you?"

Of course, Millions Knives did not answer –or obey. His head was lolling listlessly against Vash's flank, and his eyes were closed. His mouth was hanging slightly open, through which Vash was relieved to hear his brother was still taking in some erratic breaths which indicated that Knives was still alive.

"This is all your own fault, you know," Vash continued his complaints. "We could've had a perfectly happy brotherly relationship together. If only you hadn't gone mental. Now I don't know what I should do with you."

Vash shifted Knives from one shoulder to another, trying not to wince as his wounds protested at the movement. Knives really was surprisingly heavy. Knives did not _look_ like he was, though; instead of being a bundle of muscles and beef, he looked rather graceful and even fragile for such a ruthless and merciless executioner. However, whether thin or fat, heavy or light, Vash wasn't going to leave his only family member to die in the desert -even if he _was_ a murderous freaking lunatic. He would carry Knives to the hell and back if he had to, in order to get him into a hospital.

Yet the cruel fact remained that it was at least another hundred iles left to their destination, Tonim Town, and the hot desert air wasn't doing either of them any good. Vash suddenly felt remorse at throwing away his red jacket. At least the darned piece of garment would have sheltered him –and his brother- from the wrath of the two burning suns. However, he had firmly decided that his questionable career as the Humanoid Typhoon was now over, and he had turned a new leaf in his life. He would only wear red again if it was the only remaining colour in the universe.

"Total slaughter, total slaughter. I won't leave a single man alive. La de da de die, genocide… La de da de dud, an ocean of blood. Let's begin the killing time..."

Vash continued to drag one feet in front of the other, humming a weird song he'd gradually become strangely fond of. If he could continue walking like this for a few more hours, he might well get the town in sight before twilight. Chances were from slim to non-existent, but Vash decided he would not give in. He'd already given in one time too many a few days ago when he'd pulled the trigger and killed Legato Bluesummers. That smiling and lifeless face had haunted him in his nightmares ever since, and the echo of the blue-haired man's sparkling yet cruel laughter still occasionally rang in his ears. Vash was certain he would never get totally rid of the guilt of killing such an intoxicating person, in spite of his actions being generally well justified. After all, no matter what a ruthless assassin Legato had been, he had also been an innocent victim of Knives' scheming.

Talking about Knives... Vash heard his platinum-haired twin gurgle out a soft moan. It was a sort of suffocated whimper that was carried to Vash by the lazy desert wind. Almost inaudible, but it was there, and it indicated that Knives was slowly starting to wake up. Vash halted his steps and decided this time was as good a time as any for a little break. Gently, he laid his brother on the sand and sat down beside him.

"You must be thirsty, Knives. I know I am," he muttered. "It just so happens I don't have any water with me."

Slowly stretching out his arms that were aching with injuries and exhaustment, he relaxed and leaned his back against his brother's warm body. With shaking fingers, he pulled the fastenings of his battle suit in order to relieve his suffocatingly hot state.

"I don't even have a bottle of ketchup with me that I could drink," Vash continued his complaining. "Somehow I didn't think I'd have to _fake _death in case I lost the battle against you."

'_Vash...' _

Vash flinched and went rigid. Knives was reaching out for him with a feeble thought that echoed in the depths of Vash's mind. How long had Knives actually been aware, he didn't know, since he hadn't been listening to his brother's thoughts very actively before this. "Knives? Well... I _had _hoped you might be out of it for a little while longer. I must be running out of luck."

'_Don't whine, brother.' _Knives' voice held the sneering tone, even if it was only a thought. '_It really gives me a measure of irritation. Not to mention a head-ache.'_

Vash turned to look at the serene face of his twin. Knives was still seemingly unconscious, but his breathing had evened out. The unearthly voice continued. _'What are you going to do with me, Vash?'_

"I don't know."

_'I hope you don't plan on dragging me along with you on your sordid expeditions across the planet. You might regret it... You must realise that even though I'm incapable of walking or using my arms right now... Well. My mind is still actively working. And you do know what I can do with my mind, don't you, brother?'_

Vash yawned. He showed no indication he'd heard what his brother had been trying to convey to him through their wordless channel. "I'm thirsty."  
_  
_Knives sounded irritated, even insulted for being ignored. _'Then why don't you just simply save yourself and drink my blood? I wouldn't mind, honestly. My beloved, treacherous brother. I wouldn't mind it at all.'_

Vash snorted, and turned to examine the bluish-yellow horizon. "I wouldn't drink your blood if it was the last source of refreshment on this planet, Knives," he drawled.

'_You're afraid it might pollute you? You're afraid it would make you... a monster like me?'_ Knives' mental chuckle rang maliciously in Vash's head.

"No. After all, we already share the same genotypes. I just think you've lost enough of blood as it is, and I'm not willing to give you the pleasure of dying, just yet."

A cloud of dust in the distance interrupted their strange conversation where one was talking and one was thinking out loud. Vash stood up to investigate the sight better. It seemed as if there was a regatta of hundreds of sand streamers coming their way. Of course that couldn't be possible, since there were probably not twenty sand streamers together existing on the whole planet, but nevertheless the sight was curious. Knives seemed to have read his mind, since he began his malignant chuckling again.

'_It's a sandstorm, brother.'_

Vash glanced down at his twin, eyes widened with horror. "What?"

'_A sandstorm. You must've heard of those, Vash. Caused by a typhoon...'_

"I know what a sandstorm is!" Vash yelled. He was rapidly trying to calculate how much time it would take for the storm to reach him and his brother. Maybe ten minutes, fifteen the longest. _What am I going to do? What am I going to do! _Vash glanced down at his brother whose bandages had long ago turned red with blood seeping from his deep wounds. Knives was unable to walk, probably for ever, and Vash had already established the fact his strenght wasn't enough to carry his brother out of the storm's way in time.

_'There isn't anything you can do, Vash, if you intend on saving us both.' _Knives cracked one eye halfway open and glared at his rapidly panicking brother. _'You can't always save both, Vash. I thought you had learned this already. Leave me, and run for your life. You might just make it.'_

"I'm not leaving you behind, Knives!" Vash went to his brother. "If we're going to face that sandstorm, we're going to face it together."

_'You're talking about 'us' as if we were an entity, Vash! But there was never 'us' or 'we', was there? Why are you getting so fucking sentimental all of a sudden? Surely you wouldn't mind if this little sandstorm buried my mangled body into the depths of the desert? I would hardly be a threat to you and your beloved spiders after that. Who knows, you might even visit me occasionally, then. Bring me flowers... Red flowers, like Rem would've done. That's what spiders do when they remember their dead, Vash."_

"Stop thinking for one second, will you, Knives!" Vash hissed. "I'm trying to figure something out."

_'Interesting.'_

"Stop invading my mind or I'll hit you." Vash gave his brother a small kick and his boot colided with Knives' injured thigh. Knives groaned out loud with pain, and indeed fell silent. "Next time I'm releasing the knife in my boot before I kick you, so stop trying my nerves. I might accidentally gut you."

Vash viciously massaged his temples, trying to reason how best survive through the merciless storm. Again, if only he'd had his red jacket, they might have snuggled underneath it for shelter. He had used that particular method a couple of times before, and it had always miraculously worked. Now, however, there was nothing to use as a cover. Knives and he were both wearing just their battle suits, and even if they were to strip them off in order to cover their faces with the firm canvas, their wounded bodies would hardly survive the whipping swirls of sand.

_'Can I think now?' _Knives sounded irate.

"No, you can't!" Vash yelled. "Unless you can come up with something reasonable that might save our lives."

_'How about we take a ride with a Jeep?"_

"Most fascinating idea, but where do you think we'll get one?"

Knives sighed, mentally. _'Use your ears for a second, you imbecile. If that's not the sound of a rusty old car, then what is?'_

Vash blinked and looked at his brother as if he'd never seen him before. Then, he heard it, too: the sound of a roaring motor. Vash swirled around. In the opposite direction from the storm, beyond the ridge of a sandy hillock, a smaller cloud of grit rising up in the air could be seen. And, just like Knives had pointed out, the green dot in the distance did look very much like a Jeep.

"Knives, it's heading this way. Do you reckon the driver'll see us?"

_'If only you would once use the extraordinary talents we were given at birth, brother.' _Knives began to cough. Apparently he'd finally decided to try real talking. "Use... Your telepathic skills, moron. I'm too damn weak to do it myself right now."

"I don't abuse people's minds like you do, Knives."

"Then let us die. I don't give a..." Knives coughed up blood. "...a fuck. Really."

Vash picked up his brother and hoisted him on his shoulder. Knives snarled in irritation, but Vash ignored him. _Can I do it? I shouldn't do it... But Knives is right. It's probably the only way..._

Vash felt his brother shaking against him, coughing up some more blood. _'Do it, Vash...'_

"I can't!" Vash shrieked. Tears were falling down his cheeks. He fell down on his knees, stumbling onto the sand with his brother in his arms. "I'm sorry, Knives, but I can't."

_'Must I always do everything myself?' _Knives sounded exhausted. Weak. _'Alright. If that's the way you want it.'_

"NO!" Vash moaned. "I don't want either of us doing it! It's just not right! It's not right to meddle with people's brain!"

But Knives had already reached out to the distance with his trembling hand, a weird smile on his parched, blood-covered lips. _'To save your conscience, brother. Take it as a gift from me. Complimenting on a good fight.'_

Smiling still, Knives whispered a silent command before falling unconscious with the effort. Vash embraced his brother, tightly holding onto his injured body, shaking with painful emotion. He had never before felt such a feeling: disgust, anger, love and relief, all at once.

"Knives..."

A short moment afterwards, they were both travelling in the backseat of a dark green Jeep, rapidly moving away from the raging sandstorm.

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**...To Be Continued...**

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	2. Unrequited

A/N: All grammatical errors because English is my third language only. And because I don't have a beta.  


**WARNINGS: Yaoi (possibly KxV twincest), various pairings implied (possibly). You have been warned.**

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**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 2: Unrequited**

Tonim Town. A lively village of some 35.000 people, minus those who had ended up doing suicides after the visit of one Legato Bluesummers a few days ago. And, of course, the living rest of the inhabitants were still feeling a bit queasy after the residual effects of being mentally meddled with. Furthermore, several buildings were in ruins, and although the true reason behind this tragedy was lost on many, Vash the Stampede couldn't forget Midvalley the Hornfreak and his saxophone, Sylvia.

Not that Midvalley mattered, anymore. He was dead, just like the majority of the other Gung-Ho Guns. And, truthfully, the ruins did not matter, either. After all, they could not even be seen anymore. The town was now at the mercy of the vicious sandstorm that had been looming in the horizon a few hours earlier. Only beige, flying sand could be seen through the windows. Vash the Stampede sighed, and swiftly wiped out a drop of blood from his brother's lips.

_'Knives... Wouldn't you wake up?' _

Vash had been watching over his brother for three and a half hours already, ever since they had reached the town's hospital, and his eyes were drooping with exhaustment. He had not once left his brother's side. Not that there was anywhere else he could've gone, really, seeing as no-one could possibly advance two meters outside, not even a plant. The sandy cyclon made effectively sure of that. And Vash really wasn't in the mood of socializing with the others that had escaped the storm inside the hospital's strong walls.

_'Can you hear me, Knives?' _Vash leaned his forehead against his brother's limp upper arm, feeling slightly worried. _'I know I hate you. But I still wouldn't wish you dead. After all, you are my flesh and blood. Although I don't know if that particular statement works with plants. Flesh and blood... Maybe it should be fibre and blood. Hmh.'_

There was no response to this idle, mindless thinking. Millions Knives had been out cold ever since he'd saved Vash and himself from the merciless desert. The effort of manipulating someone else's mind while being nearly lethally injured himself had obviously cost Knives his last energy resources, of which Vash did not know whether to be thankful or frightened. He was relieved that Knives wasn't now able to make the villagers kill each other with his telepathic skills. However, he was also worried Knives might never wake up again. And there were suddenly so many things Vash would yet like to say to his brother.

"Mr. Vash?" A feeble female voice interrupted Vash's silent moment with his twin. Meryl Stryfe entered the hospital room, carrying a tray with a steaming mug of hot chocolate on it. Plus a couple of donuts. "I thought you might be hungry. You... You've been sitting here for nearly four hours, already. Alone."

Vash smiled at the short-haired woman and accepted the donuts and the drink. "Thank you. How did you know this was just what I needed?"

Meryl's smile widened. "What did you expect? I've spent _ages _doing nothing but following you around."

Vash grinned, and began to hungrily munch on the donut.

"How's your brother?" Meryl asked, glancing furtively at Knives' silent figure lying on the bed. Nothing but bandages and a thin white cloth were covering his lithe body.

"He's... Not decided yet." Vash shrugged, looking melancholy. "Whether to wake up, or not."

Meryl frowned. "You don't think he'll want to?"

"No." Vash wiped his hands clean on his trousers, swallowing the last piece of donut. "I think he'll want to. Just not yet. I think he's still licking his wounds. But he'll come around. I'm sure of that."

"He'll be lucky if he can live a reasonably comfortable life after what you... I mean, after what happened to him." Meryl shifted closer to Knives, examining his face that was almost angelically innocent in his unconsciousness. "He looks much like you."

"Yeah." Vash got tears of emotion in his eyes, but he smiled at the thought, anyway. "Yeah. He does."

His hair's a little lighter in colour, though," Meryl said, coming to stand next to Vash. "And he's a little paler."

"And his eyes are the beautiful blue of a cloudless sky instead of green." Vash gently touched his brother's forehead. "Although you wouldn't know that, now would you? He hasn't yet opened them."

"It doesn't sound like you hate him, anymore," Meryl observed. She watched with envy as Vash closed his fingers over Knives' hand. "Vash?"

"To be honest with you..." Vash shook his head. "I don't exactly know what I feel towards him. We've been apart for so long. But I know I once loved him. Once, when we were just kids... Over a hundred and thirty years ago, Meryl. I really loved him, back then. He was the only one besides Rem who was willing to accept me as I was. The only one who could understand me."

"Oh." Meryl felt awkward. She looked back at Knives' serene face that was so much like Vash's and, for the first time, she truly realised that they were twins. Twins that shared the past 130 years of combined history. The realization of it all made chills run down her back. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Vash looked at her with bright eyes that always managed to make Meryl weak in the knees.

"For losing your brother. For everything that ever went wrong between you two." Meryl said quietly, looking sad. "It must've been hard."

"Yes. It was hard." Vash swallowed. "It... it _is _hard."

Meryl crossed her arms and looked down at the intertwined hands of Vash and Knives. "Does... Does he feel warm?"

Vash was surprised at the question. "Yes. Why?"

"Nothing." Meryl shifted from one feet to another, looking out of the window at the boring beige landscape that was in constant movement. "I just never imagined that anyone as cold-hearted as your brother could feel... _warm_... from the outside."

"Yes. Isn't it weird?" Vash blinked his eyes, and ran his thumb over Knives' knuckles. "I had almost forgotten that he felt like anything at all. It's been so long since I last touched him."

Meryl fought the angry feeling that was rising inside of her. "It's only natural, wanting to be so close to him now. But when he wakes up..."

"I know," Vash interrupted. "I know, Meryl."

They fell into a comfortable silence, listening to the howling storm outside and Knives' calm breathing. Vash was rapidly falling into his memories from the distant past, whereas Meryl couldn't take her eyes off Vash's hand that was fondling Knives' fingers by its own will. Vash didn't realise it, but he was involuntarily making her feel an outsider. An _intruder_. Vash might have been born with the I.Q. several times higher than that of a normal human being, but there were still things he just didn't realise. One of these was Meryl's strong attachment to him.

However, maybe Vash's ignorance on this matter was for the better. Meryl's love for him was already doomed beforehand. It was unrequited and unhealthy. There could be no future for the relationship between a butterfly and a spider. Just as angels could not spend the eternity with mortals, simply because mortals were, well, _mortal, _Vash the Stampede could not spend the eternity with Meryl Stryfe.

"I'm going to see Milly," Meryl whispered. She was not sure if Vash heard her. "She's still been having these moments when she... misses Wolfwood. I'll try and make her think about something else."

"Alright." Vash's eyes were glaced over, and his voice was distant. "I'll see you later."

Meryl heaved a soft sigh, and exited the room.

_'Is she gone already?_

"Yes."

Knives hesitantly raised his hand and touched Vash's face with his fingers. _'I thought she would never leave.'_

"She brought me donuts. She's a nice girl." Vash couldn't come up with anything intellectual to say. He was too flustered to feel Knives' touch hovering over his cheeks.

_'She's in love with you. I could feel her hatred. I could feel her jealousy.'_

Vash looked at Knives as if his brother had suddenly sprouted out two horns from his forehead. "Don't be ridiculous. She's one of my best friends. It's not like that between us."

Knives laughed, a soft laugh that just reached Vash's ears. _'Damn, you really are daft, aren't you?'_

"Knives..."

_'Oh, how I wanted to shatter her dreams just now! I could've made her cry so easily. Endless pain... Such a funny, fragile thing, love is. I could've destroyed her will to live! I will certainly do it later, come the most opportune time.'_

"You're not doing anything of the sort, Knives." Vash glared at his brother, and pulled away from his touch. "You'd only make me marry her, for compensation."

_'That would hurt her more than anything I could ever do!'_ Knives' malignant sniggering echoed in Vash' mind.

"But it would also make her happy!" Vash protested.

_'She'd never be truly happy with you, Vash. But she'll make you a proper wife, I'm sure. In fifty years, she'll be an old barren hag, while you still look a stunning guy in his early thirties.' _Knives sounded very delighted at the prospect. _'She'll fade away before your eyes, Vash. And you can't do anything but let it happen.'_

Vash stood up, the chair falling over and clattering on the floor behind him. Groaning, he allowed his left arm turn to a weapon, and pressed the gun's barrel against Knives' forehead. "You _want_ me to shoot your brains out, don't you?"

"What's going on in here?" A woman's voice shrieked from the door.

Vash quickly hid his weapon and turned to look at the nurse with a silly grin on his face. "Nothing, nothing. Just trying to wake up my brother by frightening him. Isn't working, though. He he he!"

The nurse of the Tonim Town Hospital gave him a disbelieving glance, but didn't inquire further. "Alright. But the patient really needs his rest, now. Wouldn't you join us others in a game of poker? Your friends Meryl and Milly would be happy if you did."

"I can't leave my brother."

"Trust me, you can." The nurse waved her hand dismissively. "He won't be going anywhere. Not in his condition, and not in this storm. Come on!"

_'She's right, you know.' _Knives smiled, and inhaled deeply. _'I'm not going anywhere. I can't even fucking stand up on my own. You made quite sure of that. Nice shooting, Vash.'_

_'Why thank you, Knives. How kind of you to say so.'_ Vash sneered.

_'You could stay up the whole night with me, you know. But I'd rather have some sleep, and I can't have that with you looming all over me. It's fairly disquieting.'_

The nurse looked at the two of them in confusion. "He's not going to wake up just because you're staring at him, Mr. Stampede. Come, let me show you to the lounge. Milly's winning all the time, you must come and save us."

Vash glared at his brother. _'I'm going, Knives. If you try anything, anything at all, I swear I'll make you suffer.'_

_'Be at ease, brother. I'm too tired to__ even __ talk right now.' _Knives actually yawned. '_We'll see what the situation is tomorrow. But now... I just wish to sleep.'_

With a final, threatening glare at his broher, Vash rushed after the nursemaid.

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**…To Be Continued...**

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	3. Millions Knives

A/N: Thank you **millyfan**! Your review made me very happy. First, because it was, well, FIRST, and secondly because it made me feel like this story wasn't completely a waste of life. -hugs-

**WARNINGS: Yaoi **(aka slash), **various pairings implied **(possibly),** twincest **(aka KnivesxVash). You have been warned.

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**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 3: Millions Knives  
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_Pain... Absolute pain... _

Knives bit through his lower lip with the extreme emotion. He was desperately trying to change his position so that he would be able to keep an eye on the doorway, but even the smallest of movements seemed to cause him immeasurable amount of physical torment. He growled out loud, almost wishing he would have died instead of survived.

Not that anyone had ever paid much attention to his wishes, though, if not counted Legato Bluesummers. Vash certainly never had.

Knives sighed. That foolish and naïve brother of his probably still harboured some dandy ideas about making him s_ee reason_ one day, which is why Knives was still alive. How admirable and sweet, honestly. But Knives had no intention whatsoever of changing his views about the world just because it would make his brother happy. He would never let Vash prevail.

Knives cursed his brother in his mind, and then he cursed everything else that had ever existed, besides himself. Then, after a few minutes of erratic breathing, he made a second attempt on turning his body so that he would have an easy view on the door. It was a mistake. The freshly stitched wounds on his shoulders and chest rent open with a ripping sound, and the bedsheets were soon drenched in bright red blood.

Knives went pale. This was bad.

_I need to get back to the plant. I need Vash to take me back to my plant...  
_

However, Knives knew there would be a hailstorm in Eden before Vash would allow him anywhere near his beloved headquarters. There was absolutely no way Knives could persuade Vash to give him the opportunity to connect himself with the plant and heal himself. Otherwise, the nice web Vash had managed to spin around him would break.

Knives felt morose, thinking about the trap Vash had made him fall into. He could not walk. He could not use his arms, except for his right arm with severe limitations. Knives was almost an invalid at the moment, which meant that he would have to rely on his brother's help for the next few months, in the very least.

Knives was loathe to admit it, but Vash had cornered him this time. Knives was now completely dependant on his twin.

_He's such a hypocrite, really. He would do anything to prevent those useless humans from suffering, but when it comes to his own brother, he has no regrets whatsoever of letting him dwell in endless agony._

Knives gritted his teeth and angrily examined the dull ceiling.

_Do I honestly mean so little to him? Well, of course I do. He doesn't give a fuck about me, really. He only loves the spiders. He once loved me too, but not anymore. Not after Rem...  
_  
Knives felt bitter. He couldn't understand how one inconsequential human being could separate him from his brother so utterly and completely. He and Vash were brothers, they were twins, they were part of one another. Their futures should've been seamlessly intertwined. No-one, least of all an average human woman such as Rem Saverem, should have been able to rip them apart.

_However, without the influence of that stupid bitch... Vash would probably have killed me, already._

Knives didn't want to continue that line of thinking. He didn't want to think that he owed his current life to some spider whore that lived over a hundred years ago. Besides, if anything could be concluded from the rapid flow of blood from his wounds, he wouldn't even be owning _that_ miserable piece of life much longer.

_'Vash... Come to me.' _Knives tried to reach his brother with telepathy.

Vash didn't seem to hear him. Knives realised he was apparently too weak to get through to him.

He tried again. _'Vash... Vash... Come to me...'_

Knives shuddered. The feeling of blood streaming out of his body was starting to become an exhilarating experience, which meant he was slowly turning unconscious. With a delirious clarity of a dying man -or plant- Knives suddenly realised he wasn't yet ready to die. He actually had never been, despite his rebellious thoughts a few moments ago. He was supposed to be one of those who _lived outside of time_... He wasn't supposed to die _at all_. He and Vash... the most beautiful beings on this planet... They were supposed to live forever...

For the first time since Vash had shot him with his Angel Arm in Julycity, Knives actually allowed himself to _feel._ Utter treachery! Utter betrayal! How could Vash hate him so much? Everything he had ever done was for the benefit of himself and his brother. Vash was everything he'd ever wanted... Everything he had ever loved...

_'Vashu... Please...'_

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_So... hitotsu-me no yoru ni_... _izuko kara koishi ga sekai ni ochiru..._

Vash was sitting by a round table in the hospital's waiting room, holding five miserable-looking playing cards in his hand. He had already been exhausted when he had left his brother in order to join these humans in a game of poker, and now he was beginning to regret his decision. The single, bright light above the table made his eyes hurt. Not even Rem's favourite song he was silently crooning to himself could make him feel more refreshed. He glanced at Meryl and Milly, who were both completely absorbed in their respective cards, and his face split into a huge yawn.

"Insurance girls?" he whined, adapting a sugary grin on his tired face. "Must I play this stupid game? I'd rather go to sleep already."

Meryl gave him a sharp look. "You'll play this round with us. We'll see after that."

"You're too cruel!" Vash moaned. "Cruel, cruel, cruel, cruel..."

"Would you stop that?" Meryl snapped. "You're acting like a ten-year-old brat. Besides, there's nowhere you could go to sleep, anyway. The hospital is full, no beds available."

Vash smiled a tired smile, idly examining the five playing cards in his hand. "I'm sure I can come up with something. Besides, I'm one of the patients, too! Knives didn't exactly _surrender_, you know."

"You're going to watch over him, again, aren't you?" Milly asked, her light blue eyes adapting an auburn glow in the lamplight. "You might be a little bit tired, but the real reason you want to quit this game is to go to your brother again."

Vash heaved a sigh. "Yes."

"But you've been watching him all the time!" Meryl protested. She was finding it hard to accept that Vash now had someone more important in his life than her and Milly. "It isn't like he's going to wake up all of a sudden, jump out of the bed and run away."

"Actually, that's exactly what I'm afraid he'll do." Vash looked sombre. "He has a remarkable talent for acting foolishly and unexpectedly."

"Must run in the family."

"Hey! That was uncalled for!"

"I know." Meryl's expression told more than a thousand words. She was severely displeased. "But, Vash, you are not going to spend the entire night in that dark and depressive room alone with that monster you call your brother. As the nursemaid said, Knives is completely incapable of walking, and thus he cannot possibly run away. For the love of all money, you shot _holes_ through his most important thigh muscles, Vash!"

Vash leaned back in his chair, looking irritable. He was really tired, and he really didn't want to talk about his fight with Knives with the insurance girls right now. Why couldn't they just let him do as he pleased? Why couldn't they let him to go to his brother? Couldn't they see that it was very important to him, to be close to his twin right now? It had been so long...

_'Vash... Vash... Come to me...' _

Vash recoiled, his eyes widening with surprise. Wasn't Knives supposed to be sleeping? Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, again. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd imagined Knives calling for him. Many times during the past decades, he'd had the same feeling... heard the same, pleading yet harsh command... Brushing his fingers through his hair, Vash tried to ignore the voice.

_'Vashu... Please...'_

This had to be serious. Knives had to be awake. His brother had never in his life used the word _please_ before –or, at least, Vash couldn't remember him ever doing so. Something awkward must have happened. Had Knives tried to escape? Was he now lying on the floor in a bloody heap?

_'No, you dimwit...' _The voice sounded actually faintly happy, but grew weaker by the moment. _'I wasn't trying to escape... I was just...'_

The thought was suddenly cut off. Vash realised Knives must have lost his consciousness.

"Insurance girls..." Vash jumped out of the chair and, grabbing the nearest nursemaid along with him, rushed to the door. "Excuse me, but there's an emergency."

--

**…To Be Continued...**

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A/N: This chapter was a little bit shorter than the previous two, but I thought maybe the next chapter will work better alone, without the useless but obligatory crap in this one. Hope you enjoyed this, nevertheless, and will continue reading. -Lances


	4. Crush

A/N: Hmm. I'm beginning to feel that I'm the only one who's interested in this story, besides my two beloved reviewers! (Thank you for your encouraging words, ReadingWhiz89!) –grin- No matter, this is good therapy for me.

**WARNINGS: Yaoi **(aka slash) and** twincest **(aka KnivesxVash). I'm determined, now. And: you have been warned. Don't read if this pairing bugs you. I'm not forcing you.

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**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 4: Crush**

Despite the multitudinous times Vash had been to a hospital himself, he had never before experienced it as horrible and frightening. This might be because he had usually been half unconscious during all those times but, even so, tonight was still proving to be the most boisterous, nerve-wrecking and terrifying hospital visit Vash had ever experienced. Two doctors, one of them a self-made surgeon, and a nursemaid were all scurrying here and there in Knives' room, trying to help his dying brother.

"Jackson! Give me those forceps! We need to make this bleeding stop!"

"He's not going to make it! He's already lost so much blood!"

"Shut up and help me out here!"

"Here! Daniels, where's that antiseptic? Bring it here, instantly!"

"It's not bloody anticeptic we need! It's transfusion! Give him a god damn blood transfusion!"

"Impossible! His blood type is completely strange to me. I have never seen anything like it, before!"

"Of course you haven't, now have you? He's not _human_, is he?"

Vash squeezed his head between his hands, trying to block out the chaos. He remembered Wolfwood and his questionable career as a clergyman, and fell into a silent prayer to the Big Guy, just like his friend had taught him. Would it work? That was still entirely up to Vash himself. However... No matter what the outcome would be, Wolfwood had said that believers would always be redeemed. Somehow.

"ATTENTION!"

All the movement in the room stopped, for a moment. Vash was standing in the middle of the room, holding his hands in the air.

"Listen, all of you! I'm his twin, aren't I?"

"Well, yes." The nursemaid looked hesitant.

"I can donate him blood. My blood. We share the same... type."

"How sweet," the nursemaid sneered. "But we don't have time for that. We should've realised to gather your blood before this incident ever happened!"

"Don't give me that! There's always time!" Vash sounded angry and hurt. "You could always connect our circulation!"

"Connect...?"

"Yes, connect!" Vash ripped the fastenings of his battle suit open, and wrenched the upper half of the suit down. "It's a simple surgical procedure, isn't it? Connect our circulation. What's the best place? Wrists?"

The two doctors stared at Vash with wide eyes. The nursemaid, instead, was doing nothing but blusing at the sight of Vash's numerous scars.

"Sir, we've never done anything like that before. It's ancient medicine, and we know almost nothing about it. Besides, you wouldn't even be strong enough to go through that! You've lost a lot of blood yourself, today." The surgeon-doctor-whatever-he-then-was sounded very apologetic. "We might lose the both of you."

"Look, we're only wasting time here." Vash's eyes were wild with worry. Knives was not responding to any of his telepathic calls. "This is the only way to save my brother. I can feel him growing weaker and weaker by every passing second. Please, do it. I beg you."

"But you might both die!" the other doctor clarified.

"If we're going down, we're going there together." Vash was determined. "Just do it."

The surgeon-doctor looked at his collegues, and then nodded in agreement. "Very well. We might as well try it. I've read about these kind of procedures, and I have acquired the basic knowledge about how it's supposed to be done."

"Thank you, thank you!" Vash got tears of relief in his eyes. "Thank you!"

"But, doctor...?" the helpless nursemaid peeped.

"It isn't every day we'll get a chance to try out something like this," the doctor said, acidly. "If we succeed, it will serve the both parties, here. Mr. Stampede will get his brother back, and we'll get a tremendous amount of good reputation."

The nursemaid had nothing further to say. Instead, a few minutes later, Vash was ushered into the bed with his brother. He had been forced to strip down to his boxers, and his right inner forearm had been cleaned with the antiseptic. The bloody sheets felt warm and wet beneath him, but he didn't even frown with disgust as he settled down next to his twin. He was used to seeing blood, as well as feeling it. Besides, this was Knives' blood –pure and familiar. Vash kind of felt like bathing in a pool of wine.

A thought which was very disturbing, actually.

"Be mindful of his injuries... yes, just like that..." the reluctant nursemaid, Miss Jackson, was smiling nervously as she helped Vash take the right position beside Knives. "Now, lean a bit closer... that's right..."

Vash trembled as he carefully aligned himself with his brother. He was careful not to press his weight on him, and adjusted his position so that he was spooning against Knives rather than lying on top of him. Then he cautiously allowed his head sink lower, until he could feel his brother's gory shoulder beneath his cheek. The wounds had stopped bleeding for now, but the loss of blood had been so tremendous that the doctors honestly couldn't say whether Knives would make it through the night.

Vash shuddered with the horrifying thought, and gently grabbed his brother's hand into his own. His right forearm would soon be combined to Knives' similar body part with a plastic tube. It would be painful, possibly even dangerous. Vash tried to calm down his breathing. _'Hang on there, Knives. Everything will be just fine. I promise.'_

Closing his eyes, Vash tried to relax. He wasn't sure if his brother could register anything he was trying to convey to him through their mental link, but he continued to encourage his brother nevertheless. _'I won't let you die, Knives. Trust me. You're too important to me. I love you, Knives. Just remember that, and don't die on me. There are so many things I'd yet like to say to you...'_

Vash flinched when the surgeons made the first cuts into his skin. They weren't going to put him under anaesthesia –there was simply no time for that. But Vash had suffered much worse things in his life than this little surgical procedure. This time, the pain was at least voluntary. In fact, it was almost _welcome._ This time, Vash could think he was actually _saving _somebody's life instead of furthering their deaths by his mere presence.

He tried to fend off the pain with a song he'd once learned from Rem.

_'So... On the second night, the pebble's children hold hands and sketch a waltz... Sound life... __On the third night... The children of the waltz cause ripples on the face of the world...'_

Vash could feel a small tube pushing underneath his skin, inside of his artery.

_'__So... On the fourth night, the children of the wave spray the shore. Sound life...'_

_--_

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--

The room was dark with gloomy shadows, the air full of wails. The patients of the Tonim Town Hospital were constantly moaning in their pitiable pain, and the clock on the wall was making continuous, irritable ticking noises. Also the storm outside seemed to have reached completely new octaves. Knives sighed with irritation, and opened his eyes. What he realised soon after, was the fact that he was being crushed against the bed by the heavy, sleeping body of his brother.

_'Vash! You stupid, retarded fuck! Wake up and get off me! You're crushing my arm!'_

Vash did not flinch.

_'Vash!'_

"Mmhhmh..."

_'Vash, you're drooling on my pillow. Snap out of it!'_

Vash was as lethargic as Kuroneko-sama after the one time Legato had shot the cat in the head: senseless yet still miraculously alive. Knives moaned out loud in anger. He had no recollection whatsoever as to when his brother had crawled into the bed next to him. Had he possibly been sleeping so soundly that he hadn't even heard his brother enter the room? However, this would have been nothing, had Knives not somehow also allowed Vash to sprawl himself half across his chest._  
_

_'I know you'd love to share the same bed with me, brother, but this isn't exactly how we're supposed to go on about it.'_ Knives tried to push his brother away. In vain. _'Damn!'_

"Knives..."

_'That's right, you moron! It's me you're trying to crush here. Not that two-goody-shoes insurance bitch.'_

Vash yawned, and snuggled a bit closer to his brother. "You're warm..."

_'What's that got to do with anything?' _Knives protested by sinking his teeth in Vash's shoulder. _'Get off me!'_

"Ouch!" Vash jolted his chin up. "You bit me!"

"You shot me!" Knives croaked out loud, finding his real voice.

Vash looked at his brother with tired eyes, before letting his head fall down again. "Blah."

"Vash!" Knives moaned. "Get off me!"

"Can't do that."

Knives snarled. "And why is that?"

"Because, if you haven't noticed it before, we're tied up to each other." Vash turned his head and pointedly looked at their forearms. "Connected circulation. Saved your bloody life, so shut up and let me sleep. It's not even morning, yet."

Vash allowed his head fall down once again, and Knives could not do anything but allow it. He was still too dumbstruck by Vash's sudden revelation. _Connected circulation? What the hell?_ Knives tried to move his left arm, and winced with pain. There was something sharp going through his skin and inside of his vein, just a little below the crook of his left arm. And, it seemed, the other end of that same sharp object was somehow connected to his brother.

"Cut it off, Knives. Don't move. It hurts like hell!" Vash mumbled. "We're going to be separated in the morning, already. Just try to get some sleep."

"How... How long have we been like this?"

"I don't know. Maybe three or four hours. You've been out cold the entire time."

Knives didn't know whether to laugh, cry, swear out loud or kill somebody. He could feel his brother's soft puffs of breathing ghost over his skin, and it made chills run down his spine. He also became aware of the obvious fact that he was completely naked in the bed. Tentatively, Knives tried to raise his free hand to check if his brother at least had the decency to wear something. His fingers came in contact with underwear. Thank Lord.

Not that Knives was actually thanking anyone. He wasn't a believer. Higher beings than himself simply couldn't exist.

The next thing Knives paid attention to was his brother's devastatingly scarred torso. He didn't exactly see it, but he could feel the roughened skin and various metal sutures pressing against his chest and abdominal muscles where the bandages weren't preventing the touch. He had first heard about these injuries from Legato, who had consulted Chapel about them. This had been several months ago, but he had chosen not to believe a single word of it. Why would Vash possibly let himself voluntarily become such a walking Frankenstein?

Granted, Knives didn't have a very clear picture as to what kind of a monster Frankenstein had been, since he'd only ever heard about the guy from Steve when that atrocious disgrace of a human being had been trying to scare him and Vash when they had been just kids. However, that was neither here or there. The point was, Legato's information had been valid. Vash's body _was _rather grotesque, nowadays.

With great effort, Knives raised his right hand and gently traced his fingers along one of the scars that was marring his brother's back.

"You know, Vash..." he sighed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Vash smiled against Knives' soft neck. "Sleep now."

"I can't. You see..." Knives silently closed the distance between them, wincing with pain, and allowed his lips hover right above his brother's mouth, as if wanting to give him a kiss.

Millions of small butterflies fluttered in Vash's stomach as he felt the electric almost-touch. He opened his bright, aquamarine eyes and looked at his brother with a mixture of curiosity and hope. "Yeah?"

Knives gave him a cruel smirk. "You're still crushing my arm."

--

**...To Be Continued...**

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A/N: Hope you liked it. However, there will be some suspense ahead of us, still. Don't get your knickers in a twist just yet.


	5. A Little Bit of His Gospel

A/N: Thank you, Sailor Lilith-chan, from your feedback; I will change 'telekinesis' to 'telepathy', just like you advised. And, Sugarpony, I thank you as well, for pointing out the obvious mistake in ch. 4. I have corrected it, now. And to all of you reviewers: I am so happy you've received this story so well. I'm also flattered that so many of you think Knives is IC. It's a hard job to do, but I'm trying my best. -Lances

**WARNINGS: The usual. DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. Although I sure as hell would want to...  
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**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 5: A Little Bit of His Gospel  
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Knives' eyes fluttered open with a sudden feeling of discomfort. Granted, his current position half beneath his brother was not much comfort to begin with, but there was just something else right now that made his skin crawl. He had been trying to get some sleep for the past few morning hours, but he had not quite succeeded. Every time he was beginning to fall into a peaceful slumber, Vash decided to change his position, thus elbowing and kicking Knives fully awake again.

Yet this current, particularly horrid discomfort had nothing to do with his brother. Compared to this, Vash's warm and heavy body felt actually comforting against his side.

Knives allowed his piercingly blue eyes scan the room. Someone was most definitely lurking in the shadows. Or, at least, had just been. A disgusting mental image of the shorter insurance girl –Meryl?- rose like a destructive tidal wave before Knives' eyes. Had that atrocious bint been watching them sleep? Knives sneered. Maybe she would've liked to sleep in the same bed with Vash, just like this, herself? With a malicious grin, Knives slid his free arm, the one that was not connected to Vash's circulation, around his brother's waist.

Vash mumbled something in his sleep, pressing more firmly against his side. Knives couldn't believe the stupidity of his brother. How he was able to sleep so soundly with his evil and sadistic brother in the same room, was completely beyond the aforementioned brother's comprehension. However, it was Vash the Stampede's luckiest day of the century. Knives had no interest of hurting his brother right now.

Knives' eyes fell upon a pile of clean bedsheets and clothes on a chair nearby the window. Then he registered the fact that also the window was open; he curtains were rippling in the gentle wind. Most evidently the sandstorm was now over. Or, maybe it had just moved out of Tonim Town, and was still breeding havoc someplace else. Knives couldn't have cared less. The main thing was that the storm was now nowhere to be seen or heard. Instead, Knives could now see that it was a beautiful, early morning, and the wavering glow of the two rising suns made the wall of the opposite building shimmer with a bright, golden sheen. The sky beyond was serene and as blue as Knives' own, ever so captivating eyes.

Knives smiled. He was very fond of his own outer appearance. After all, he _was_ perfect. Legato had told him this on several occasion, and Knives had no reason not to believe him. Especially when Knives himself had pointed out this fact to his most devoted minion, first.

There were two birds sitting by the windowsill, chirping annoingly at each other. Knives' smile died away instantly, and he narrowed his eyes. For the lack of better activity, he tried to distinguish the irritable beings a little bit better. They appeared to be the sort of birds that were everywhere nowadays: they had green and white colouring and ridiculous, curly tufts standing on their heads. How the birds had managed to stay alive through the storm, Knives had not the vaguest idea.

Frustrated, Knives shifted slightly as his leg began to feel numb, and turned a little bit more towards the window. The two birds were still there, and they made him sick to the stomach with all their idiotic bill and coo. Using his telepathic powers, Knives forced the two sodding tits fight against each other. Soon, they were trying to peck each other's eyes out. Their death dance was relatively amusing, and it cheered Knives immensely.

_WHACK!_

"Ouch!" Knives wailed, and scrunched up his nose with pain. "Why did you have to hit me like that, you stupid fuck?"

Vash yawned. "Don't torture innocent creatures, Knives."

"What do you care? They are just birds!"

"I happen to _like_ birds."

"Birds eat butterflies."

"No, actually they don't. Not these ones, anyway." Vash yawned again and stretched, as far as their current, combined situation allowed. "Anyway, don't you have anything better to do?"

"Actually, Vash, I don't. I'm still tied up to you, aren't I?" Knives looked irritable.

The door to the hospital opened, and the nursemaid peeked inside. "I thought I heard voices! Oh, good, you're both awake. This is very good news. Just a minute, I'll fetch the doctors!"

Knives looked horrified._ 'Don't let them touch me, Vash. Just... Don't let them.'_

'_I'll have to. Unless you want our forearms to remain forever attached? I'm not disconnecting them without any professional help. Besides...' _Vash smiled down at his glowering brother, highly amused. _'They've already touched you. Who do you think discarded your clothes, yesterday? Sure as hell wasn't me! In fact, the doctors had to cut them off of you. That battle suit of yours was quite annoyingly sticking into your wounds and all, you must understand...'_

Knives began to sputter with rage and humiliation when Milly and Meryl, along with the doctors, rushed into the room. Milly looked simplistically happy, just like she always did, but Meryl had a more darker shade of a frown on her face. Knives did not want to see any of it, and closed his eyes.

"Mr. Vash?" Meryl's hesitant voice carried through the room. "How are you feeling?"

Vash grinned at the girls. "A little bit hungry. Any donut leftovers?"

Knives groaned, and buried his face against his brother's neck.

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-- 

Vash was standing by the window, looking outside. He was viciously massaging the clean, white bandage that was wrapped around his right forearm, and it was already starting to look bedraggled. But Vash did not see this. He was so engrossed by his sombre thoughts.

He had been separated from Knives a good half an hour ago, and everything had gone just fine. That is, until Knives had gone mental again, and nearly killed the nursemaid, who had made the unfortunate mistake of touching Knives without an extremely valid reason.

Fortunately, though, no-one in the room except for Vash had quite understood what had happened. Knives had been seemingly calm the entire time, only using his sinister plant powers to make the girl writhe on the floor, screaming in agony. Vash, of course, had quickly realised what was going on, and had ever so furtively gone and leaned his weapon arm against Knives' thigh, right where the bullet had gone through his leg.

The girl's suffering had ended, and Knives' had started.

'_I can't believe you just tried to kill that woman, Knives.'_

They were just the two of them in the room now, and Knives was lying on his stomach on the bed. He looked rather horrible; he was still in great pains after experiencing the might of his brother's wrath. The very moment everyone else had left the room, Vash had told Knives off with a little of His gospel –learned first-hand from Nicholas D. Wolfwood- and now Knives was a shivering lump of pain on the bed.

'_I wasn't trying to kill her, you retard. I was just trying to teach her a lesson.'_

Vash turned to face his brother. _'Well, you're not teaching anyone ever again. Is that clear?'_

'_Fuck you.'_

'_Now that was pretty rude. I'm sure I can come up with means to teach you some manners, brother. For instance...' _Vash pushed himself away from the window, and sauntered at the pile of clothing on the chair. He picked up a towel, a T-shirt and a pair of black trousers. "I'm going to take a refreshing shower. They happened to find a plentiful source of groundwater beneath this town, only recently, and the luxury of a real bath is also available. Ah... What a hot day it is! I really think the shower will do me some good."

Knives stared at his brother with wide eyes, and Vash grinned. If there was anything Knives hated as much as the spiders, it was dirt. He'd always been complaining about dirt, in their youth. While still inside the SEEDS ship, he'd loved nothing better than to have a warm bath, at least once a day. What a waste of water, really. Vash smiled. At the moment, Knives was exposed to both the dirt and the spiders. Vash knew Knives would soon be begging him to take him along. The dried blood everywhere on Knives' body had already made him slightly itch.

"You... You're going to have a shower?" Knives repeated.

"Yes. A really long one. And then, maybe, I'm going to shave, brush my teeth and fix my hair. Can't prance around the place looking like a hound dog, now can I?"

Knives was still staring.

"Well. I trust you won't be torturing anyone while I'm gone. The consequences of such actions might prove fatal to yourself, if you catch my drift... Which I'm sure you do, already... So... We'll see later." Vash began to walk towards the door.

"Wait!"

Smirking, Vash halted his steps and glanced over his shoulder. "Yes? Was there something you wanted?"

"I..." Knives swallowed. "I could use the bathroom, too."

"Indeed?" Vash raised a brow. "I don't think you've behaved yourself good enough to be granted such a luxury. What do you think, brother?"

With great spiritual effort, Knives took a deep breath and looked at his brother in the eye. "Please."

"Alright." Vash shrugged. "You're free to go. I'm not stopping you."

"Vash..." A murderous gleam flashed in Knives' eyes. "Please."

With a lopsided smile, Vash returned to his brother. He helped him sit up and wrapped the towel around his naked body. "You want me to carry you?"

Knives was biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed. "Isn't there a wheelchair available?"

"You wish." Vash grinned, and cradled his brother in his arms, despite the action made his own wounds hurt like hell. Yet, this was too good to miss. Anything to make Knives feel helpless and mortified... Vash realised he was actually beginning to enjoy torturing his twin like this. Maybe Knives would never fully change his views, but as long as Vash was able to inflict at least a little amount of mental damage on his brother, everything would be tolerable. Revenge, as it were, was not only for the wicked...

Whistling merrily, Vash carried his brother down the hospital's aisle and into the bathroom.

--

**...To Be Continued...**

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A/N: A cliché shower scene in the next chapter, anyone? Nope. A shower scene, maybe, but cliché... I should hope not! (After all, Knives and Vash can't really get their wounds wet.) Just tell me if you don't want it, and I'll skip over it!


	6. Tension

A/N: Um. I decided not to rush with the story. Forgive me.

**WARNINGS: the same as before. DISCLAIMER: the same as before.**

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**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders**  
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**Chapter 6: Tension**

--

Vash the Stampede scanned his reflection from the mirror that was hanging on the bathroom wall. He had just shaved. Granted, it hadn't made much difference to his outer appearance. He still looked worn out and tired, and he noticed a couple of ink black wisps of hair falling down his temple. When had those emerged? Vash sighed. He had presumably been so worried about his twin that he had completely forgotten to take care of himself. Knives needed constant attention, after all. In all the meanings of the word.

Vash turned his gaze away from his troubled face, and met his brother's eyes through the mirror. Knives was glaring at him devilishly, his black eyelashes casting broken shadows over his cheeks in the bathroom's yellowish lamplight. He was sitting on the toilet seat, supporting his posture from the nearby rickety babycare table with great difficulty. His both shoulders, his chest, his both thighs and his right calf were all wrapped in white bandages.

"You look terrible, Vash."

Making a face at his brother, Vash glanced back at his own reflection again. He was sweaty, there was gore and sand attached to his skin, and his hair was a complete mess. And, when all of his numerous scars and old injuries were added into that picture, along with his prosthetic left arm, Vash really couldn't blame his brother for being slightly disgusted with the current scenery.

"How could you let those worthless humans do this to you?" Knives was looking feverish, almost wild in his anger. "Vash... You were once so very beautiful. How could you let them do this? And why didn't you come to me when they did? I could've healed you... I could've made everything all right again. You know this."

Vash allowed his brother to talk. He understood that his malformed appearance was quite a shock to Knives. Hell, it was a shock to _himself_ occasionally, when he really took the time and looked at himself. Usually he just covered his defects as quickly as possible after showering, and thought about them no more. Now, however, he simply couldn't forget. After allowing his eyes roam over his brother's flawless form, he couldn't forget that he had once been just as perfect, himself. Smooth and soft ivory skin seamlessly embracing the strong muscles underneath... The simple beauty of a lithe, agile body of a young man.

"Vash... What the hell are all those various nuts and screws for?" Knives seemed to be examining the metallic implements on his shoulderblades.

Vash ignored him, and grabbed a roll of strong adhesive tape from the nearby table. "Let's get your wounds covered. We don't want them get wet and consequently infected, now do we? Then we can take the shower."

Knives looked irritated. "You're avoiding the subject."

"Look, I don't have the energy to talk about it right now." Vash sighed. "If you want the god damn shower, you will take it now and keep your mouth shut. Otherwise I'm going to take it alone."

Knives gave him a hostile glare, but surprisingly didn't argue. He also allowed Vash to roll the strong, waterproof tape around his injuries without much protest, of which Vash was secretly grateful. Five minutes later, they were both standing underneath a steaming, refreshing spray of water. Or, at least _Vash_ was standing; Knives was more accurately leaning his whole weight against Vash and being sort of embraced.

Vash reached for the soap and poured a liberal amount of the apple-scenting liquid on his palm, trying to maintain his strong hold of his brother at the same time with his prosthetic arm. Then he began to rub it on Knives' back.

"What is that?" Knives was instantly suspicious, and tensed in Vash's arms.

"Apple soap." Vash massaged the sweet substance over his twin's sides and lower back. "They have only recently started to make this fantastic product in January. Meryl told me."

Knives was silent for a long moment, feeling Vash's right hand go lower and lower. Then he looked up, meeting his brother's eyes. "This doesn't bother you?"

Vash was genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"

Knives glanced down at their naked, intertwined bodies. "Well. _This_."

"Oh." Vash blinked. "I'm sorry if the, er, metal patches on my chest irritate you. I can't really take them out, you know. Would you like to sit down on the floor instead? That might be a better idea..."

Knives rolled his eyes. "I wasn't talking about your stupid metal ribcage Vash. And don't you dare put me down on the floor. I'm not bloody sitting in all that filth."

"Okay." Vash shrugged, and adjusted Knives in his arms so that his brother's back was now against his chest. "What were you talking about, then?"

Knives heaved a long sigh, and leaned his head backwards, so that it was resting on Vash's shoulder. The gentle droplets of water hammered against his face, and he quite enjoyed the feeling. Especially when Vash's right hand began to massage the soap across his lower abdomen. He was almost starting to forget the constant ache of his deep injuries in his growing euphoria, which was saying something.

"I was talking about us, Vash," he finally said. "Doesn't it bother you to... to _touch_ me? Like this?"

"I suppose not," Vash replied. "You're my brother."

Knives looked a little bit troubled. "Exactly."

Vash's breathing felt hot against Knives' throat as he turned to speak. "Would you like to finish the washing, yourself? I mean... Well. You know what I mean."

Knives grimaced, feeling more than slightly aroused. He hoped Vash wouldn't notice this. "Yes, thank you."

--

* * *

-- 

Knives was sitting on the toilet seat, shivering inside of a fluffy white towel, while it was Vash's turn to shower. Vash was casting him curious looks every now and then, wondering what had made his twin so quiet suddenly. It wasn't like Knives to just sit silently in place, doing nothing but staring at the mirror in front of him. Not that Vash actually knew what kind of behaviour _was_ typical of Knives, though; he hadn't spent much time in his brother's company, recently. However, thus far, Knives had been nothing but moody, angry and continuously rude, and quite determined to make Vash's life a living hell. Therefore, this current, placid state of his mind was unnerving to say the least. Perhaps his brother was plotting something against him?

"Knives?" he asked.

"Huh?" Knives actually was startled. "What?"

"You're not occupying your thoughts with plans to escape, are you?"

Knives sneered. "Of course not. Why would I think about something like that? It's so fucking nice to be here with you that I'm almost puking with happiness."

Vash grinned. Knives was his usual self, again. "Good."

Vash stepped out of the shower, and was lucky to find a pile of unused towels in the bathroom closet. He had namely forgotten to take another towel from the ward after wrapping Knives in his own. He began to dry his hair, wishing that the black streaks would soon become golden, again. "Knives?"

"What?"

Vash's voice sounded like a muffled mumble, since he was currently drying his face. "In case you're feeling better in a few days, we're leaving."

Knives narrowed his eyes, looking at Vash sharply. "Where, exactly?"

"Warrens City."

_"Warrens City?"_ Knives looked disgusted. "That dingy old rat hole. Whatever for?"

"To meet an old friend." Vash smiled, his eyes shining brightly at the thought.

"Do I even want to know?"

"I guess not." Vash smirked. He brushed his fingers through his hair, and tried to make himself look a bit more representable. He didn't have any hair care products with him, so he couldn't make his coiffure stand the way it always used to. Instead, he found a random piece of ribbon and made himself a ponytail.

Knives had only one, dry comment: "You look fucking ridiculous."

Vash pouted, ripping the fuchsia red ribbon out of his hair. "Spoilsport."

--

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-- 

The afternoon was dead boring for Vash. Meryl and Milly were the only ones to keep him company, since Knives spent most of the time sleeping after lunch. However, even the insurance girls didn't seem to give him much attention, anymore. As soon as Meryl started to type her latest report to the Bernadelli Insurance Agency and Milly discovered a bucket of pudding in the hospital's kitchen, Vash was left on his own. The doctors came to check his wounds a couple of times, changing his bandages and making him swallow some icky tasting sticky medicine, but this small show of affection naturally didn't make him feel any more loved than before. Therefore, when the evening arrived and Knives showed signs of finally waking up, Vash almost wanted to dance with joy.

The hospital was full of merry faces and leisurely bustle. The twin suns had began to set, and three of the five moons were already shining brightly in the sky. The weather report had promised a freezing cold desert night, and Vash had already drawn curtains before the window in their room. Knives was making an independent effort to sit up, and Vash couldn't ignore how his abdominal muscles were rippling underneath the white shirt he was wearing. Knives truly was in perfect shape. Vash felt the stab of jealousy in his chest, again, and looked away at the trash can that contained the discarded wrappings of waterproof tape. Knives had yelled a lot when Vash had ripped it off.

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Meryl stepped in, carrying a tray of sandwiches and Ceylon tea. Milly was tailing her, dragging a collapsible table and a couple of chairs into the room.

"Good evening, Mr. Vash and Mr. Vash's brother!" Milly beamed. "We brought you some supper!"

Vash glanced at his brother worriedly, wondering if Knives would try anything to hurt his friends. He was surprised to find Knives looking at the girls with curiosity rather than outright hostility, even though he did have a displeased frown on his face. Knives had probably figured out that hurting the insurance girls wouldn't anyhow work for his own benefit at the moment, and was therefore trying his best to accept the situation.

"Here you go!" Milly actually went to his brother and gave him a steaming mug of hot tea.

Vash tensed in his chair and found himself thinking that she had absolutely no instinct of self-preservation whatsoever. He waited for the evident explosion that would soon follow, ready to beat the living daylights out of his twin if necessary. Even Meryl, who always seemed to put up a brave front, was clearly a bit timorous around Knives, and looked horrified at Milly's daring antics. But Milly did not seem to sense the danger of her actions at all. She just smiled down at the feared Millions Knives, and tittered stupidly. Vash's fingers tightened around his fist as he was ready to leap out of his chair.

Then Milly closed her eyes and laughed. "Would you like a sandwich, too, Mr. Vash's brother?"

Vash blinked his eyes several times in confusion. He had just witnessed his brother accept a drink from Milly Thompson. Even though he sniffed it first, as if it would have contained crude oil instead of tea leaves from January, he did accept it. Without killing anyone.

A flood of warm feelings towards his brother filled Vash's heart, and he found himself wanting to give Knives a hug.

_'Don't even think about it, Vashu.' _Knives' amused thoughts echoed in his head. _'I'm doing this only because I'm saving my energy, and because I happen to be thirsty.'_

Vash couldn't help grinning, still. _'I'm glad you're behaving yourself. Even if it's only because of selfish motives.'_

Meryl sat down next to Vash, arranging the rest of the food on the table that was now set up before them. "I wrote to my boss today. I think, now that you seem to have abandoned your career as the Humanoid Typhoon, we must return to January. We're out of job, here."

"Nah, don't feel so melancholy about it." Vash was munching his sandwich with great appetite. "Wolfwood always said I was a trouble magnet. Even if I'm not wearing my red coat any longer, the greediest bounty hunters will still recognize me and try to capture me. I'm a walking disaster, you know."

"Do you think so?" Milly looked excited. "I'd much rather follow you than wash the windows of the Bernadelli Insurance Agency five days a week."

Meryl slapped her, blushing. "Don't be ridiculous, Milly. We can't follow him, anymore. We have no reason!"

_'She is so much in love with you, Vash. Can't you see?'_

Vash gritted his teeth. _'Stop it, Knives.'_

_'So much fun! Can I play with her a little?'_

Vash saw Meryl's hand move on its own. Soon, Meryl was involuntarily fondling her breasts and starting to spread her legs, and she was terrified. Milly was looking at the sight almost as horrified as Vash.

"Madam, what are you doing?" Milly's light blue eyes were huge.

"I... I can't help it, Milly!"

Vash growled, jumped up from his seat and turned his left arm into a weapon. He jumped Knives, making his brother's tea-cup spill over, and pushed the gun's pipe against his head. "I will shoot!"

"Come now!" Knives laughed. "Your threats work almost as well as your gun."

Vash narrowed his eyes. "That's why we're going to Warrens City, remember? Maybe, after that, my threats _will_ work as well as my gun. Maybe, after that, I _will _shoot."

Meryl looked frightened, viciously buttoning up her jacket. "What do you mean?"

Vash pulled back and replaced the gun with five leather-covered metallic fingers. "Knives and I are going to Warrens City to meet Frank Marlon. My arm isn't functioning properly, anymore, you know. I can't truly shoot with it."

"Oh." Meryl frowned. "Well. Do you think it's wise to let your brother near so many guns? I hear Marlon has started his old business anew."

"Excuse me, you horrid, know-it-all witch, but I'm still in the room." Knives spoke directly to Meryl for the first time. "And I don't approve of being treated as if I weren't."

Meryl looked both angry and embarrassed at the same time. "You're one to talk, you vile creature! Besides, even _you _must admit it's not a good idea to let you anywhere near all those Marlon guns!"

Knives only looked bored. "Whatever would I do with some rusty old Marlon pistol? The idea is pathetic! There are only two guns I'll ever be willing to use, and they're both currently laying somewhere in the middle of the desert, covered by dunes of sand."

"Don't get so sentimental about it, Knives." Vash snapped. "Anyway, I think you'd better go now, girls. Let's call it an early night."

Meryl and Milly exchanged looks, and obviously understood the meaning behind Vash's words. Knives was turning hostile, again. They left the room, Meryl giving Vash one last longing glance from the door.

--

**…To Be Continued...**

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A/N: There is a plot to this story, yet. You'll see.


	7. Chill

** Disclaimer: none of this is mine. NOTHING. I don't own Trigun.**

**WARNING: READ THIS, HONEST! Twincest, yaoi, Knives x Vash. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. **I'm sorry to know some of you have not read the warnings and might have experienced unwelcome surprises because of that. **  
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**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 7: Chill**

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The night was as cold as Knives' heart towards the spiders. Vash shivered under the light blanket, trying to snuggle a bit more closer to his brother. He didn't know why he was still sharing the bed with Knives, but he guessed it might've had something to do with the fact that there actually weren't any extra beds in the hospital, and because he really didn't want to leave his brother unguarded and join the insurance girls in a hotel room. If there were any further reasons, Vash was firmly ignoring them.

Vash listened to the silence for a while. Only Knives' calm breathing broke the utter stillness. Vash wasn't actually sure if Knives was sleeping or not; his twin had namely developed a habit of pretending to be asleep while, in fact, he wasn't. Sighing, Vash pressed his nose against his brother's neck and inhaled the familiar yet strange scent that belonged to no-one else but Knives.

'_Stop tickling my neck, you stupid fuck.'_

Vash opened his eyes and blearily looked at the platinum-haired man that was sleeping next to him. "You awake, Knives?"

"I was, until you decided to nudge your freezing cold nose against my skin."

"Sorry about that." Vash was grinning.

"No, you're not." Knives took a deep breath and turned to face his brother. His voice was thick and raspy with sleep. "What's bothering you?"

Vash traced his eyes along Knives' sharp jaw, following it up to his sharply curving earlobe. Knives didn't have an earring, he realised. Of course he didn't. Vash took a deep, heavy breath and closed his eyes. "I don't know. I guess I'm just thinking what I'm going to do with you."

"In the middle of the night?" Knives sounded amused. "I think there are _plenty_ of things you could do with me."

Vash had the grace to blush. "Knives!"

"What?" Knives tried very hard not to laugh. "What did I do now?"

Vash propped himself up on his elbow and glared down at his brother. He felt a strange kind of tickle in his stomach. "You know very well what you did. That... There was a sexual innuendo in that!"

Knives flashed a brilliant smile. "So you actually noticed?"

Vash coughed, suddenly frustrated in more ways than one. "What are you playing at, Knives?"

"How about Shoot or Bare?" Knives suggested, with a grin. "Legato's version of that stupid spider game. Actually quite amusing. He made a gang of those idiotic Roderick thieves play it once. Eventually..."

"Knives, I'd rather not know, thank you. Besides, I was kind of serious here." Vash sat up and nervously began to tamper with his weapon arm. "I really don't have any idea what to do with you. I have no idea what to expect from the future. I... I don't even know if we _have_ a future."

"Of course we have a future, Vash. It's the spiders who don't."

"Stop it, Knives."

"I can't." Knives drawled. "I can't change the universal truths, you know. Humans are born mortal, and there's nothing we can do about it. Not even if we wanted to."

"You still shouldn't be so cruel towards them. Why can't you just let them live the short while they're privileged to live?"

"Well. I'm not killing anyone now."

"That's because I'm here to prevent you. Not because you wouldn't want to."

"True. But still. I'm not killing anyone right now." Knives looked at the wall, biting his lip. "Would you come back to sleep?"

Vash shook his head, feeling miserable. Knives would never learn to respect human life. Vash could deal with him now, but when his brother gained back his strength and his ability to walk... There was only so much Vash could do to prevent him from becoming the same murderous lunatic he had always been.

A lone cat on the windowsill outside meowed.

"You think too much, did you know that, Vash." Knives was now examining his twin with intensity, his eyes burning. "And you think you're so perfect. You think you have so high morals. But you know what? You don't. You actually _like_ to hurt someone."

"That's not true! I've never wanted to hurt anyone!"

"Think again, brother." Knives' voice was icy. "You seem to have developed some kind of a fetish towards hurting _me_. You've shot me more times than what I care to remember. With no remorse whatsoever. And still, although I can't understand why, I love you. Why is it that it's so easy for you to hurt me? Is it because I'm equal to you?"

"I..."

"Come to think of it, it's all very simple, in the end. I'm the only one who you can pour all of your aggressions on. I'm the only one you won't be able to accidentally kill when you rant and rave."

"Knives..."

"You're so full of shit, you know. If you see even one of those beloved spiders of yours suffer, you cry. But what do you do when you see your brother suffer, Vash? What do you do? You don't give a damn, because you know it's your own doing that he's suffering. Or, maybe, you decide to hurt him even _more._"

Vash looked horrified.

"I just need to exist, so that you could keep feeling good about yourself." Knives looked away from Vash again, feeling empty inside. "I'm the Demon in this petty little world of yours, and you are the Saviour. You like the feel of that thought, don't you, Vash? You truly want to be the one to bring the salvation to these godforsaken souls... The salvation Rem once promised for everyone. The salvation that never came."

Vash was about to reply, but couldn't find the words. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was so confused that he didn't quite know how to be. He looked at Knives, who opened his arms with a grimace of pain.

Vash all but dove into his brother's embrace.

"We don't need the salvation, Vash. _They_ don't need it. They don't even _want_ it." Knives buried his nose in Vash's messy hair, kissing the top of his head. "Just try to get some sleep. You'll see everything more clearly in the morning. Just... Get some sleep now."

--

**...To Be Continued... **

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A/N: This was just a short fill-in chapter... I didn't want to make it too long, since the next chapter jumps a few days ahead. Hope you liked it, still. -Lances 


	8. Meryl

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews! I'm so happy you took the trouble of commenting on my work, ntc, Orpheus01, Millyfan, Kenny's grounded all the time & ReadingWhiz89. Second notion: I will be posting the NC-17 version of this story to adultfanfiction dot net. Here in ff net I'm probably bound to eliminate the most, erm, interesting encounters. Not that there will be much wild animal sex just yet.

Disclaimer: I won't even pretend to be Yasuhiro Nightow.

**WARNINGS: yaoi, twincest implied. If you're an innocent, uncorrupted soul, I wouldn't advice you to read further. You. Have. Been. Warned.**

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**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 8: Meryl**

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Millions Knives truly was brilliantly beautiful.

Meryl looked at the twin brother of Vash the Stampede, eyes narrowed with jealousy. Knives was leaning against the backseat of the open car they were currently sitting in, smiling a weird smile that couldn't be placed anywhere. The twin suns were radiating off his platinum blond hair that was waving in the wind, creating an amazing golden halo around the cold-hearted man's face. Meryl really, _really_ hated the sight, especially when she noticed Vash was also absorbed by it, and balled her fists with green-tinged anger.

Knives –the bastard plant- was recovering alarmingly well from his injuries. It had been two weeks now since the fateful day Vash had brought his dying brother into the Tonim Town hospital. Only two weeks –two grisly weeks during which Meryl had received more than her due share of angst, arguments, tears and constantly cumulative jealousy- and Knives was already capable of traveling with the others towards the Warrens City. The time had all but slithered through Meryl's fingers like the finest sand of the desert, and she couldn't quite understand how that had happened.

Meryl gritted her teeth. If only Vash hadn't been sitting on the backseat between her and the source of her irritation, she would most probably have poked Knives on the injured thigh with one of her Derringers –accidentally, of course.

_Oh, Vash... _

Meryl glanced at the other twin, eyes filled with concern. Vash was so innocent, like a true child of the nature, and so very easily manipulated. Even now, despite all the evidence that proved Knives to be a ruthless and merciless killer, Vash's right arm was leisurely and oh-so-casually resting around his evil twin's wide shoulders. How could Vash forgive him so easily? How could he _forget _so easily? Maybe it was because of this idiotic 'Love and Peace' –crap he was constantly spreading around?

Not that Meryl had _always_ found this perfectionistic rule of life idiotic -only after the _love _part of the slogan had been attached to a ravenous lunatic who had absolutely nothing to do with _peace_ at all.

_Knives..._

Meryl watched with barely contained anger how Vash melted into a smile when gazing deeply into his brother's blue eyes.

--

--

It was too hot. Too hot to be traveling, anyway. Vash squirmed in his tight, black clothes. He wanted to take off his boots. He wanted to throw off his shirt and let the desert wind steal it away. But, of course, he couldn't do that. Even if his brother and the girls had seen his awful scars, the driver had not, and Vash wanted them to make a safe journey to Warrens City rather than make the driver steer the car off the cliff in shock. Therefore, the only thing Vash could do was to try and forget all about the torturous heat, and concentrate on other things.

Vash wiped some sweat out of his eyes and turned to look at Meryl, who was sitting on his left-hand side in the car's backseat. She had been oddly quiet the entire journey. Of course, she had never been overly talkative anyway, but now she seemed to be outright tetchy. And she was casting murderous glances at Knives.

Was Knives playing tricks with her mind, again? Surely he could not be so stupid, what with Vash sitting right next to him?

Vash turned to look sharply at his brother. However, Vash could not discern any malicious intent at all behind Knives' relaxed smile. In fact, for the first time in many days, Knives seemed to be enjoying himself. He had received quite the dose of painkillers when they had left the hospital, and was consequently capable of sitting relatively comfortably in his seat. Vash's eyes melted, and he traced his fingers gently along his brother's long neck.

Knives turned to look at him. _'What was that for?'_

'_I'm just happy to see that you're behaving yourself so nicely again.'_

'_I can't bother to waste my energy on these pesky mortals at the moment.' _Knives smiled at his brother. _'Besides, I feel pretty damn drugged. All the medicine they made me swallow before we left... it's a miracle I'm still coherent.'_

'_Do you feel pain?'_

Knives shrugged, and looked at the horizon again. _'Not really.'_

"Vash!" Meryl's eyes were blazing fire and sulphur. "How can you possibly be this _inattentive_?"

Vash flinched, looking confused. "What do you mean?"

"May I remind you that this man, sitting right next to you, is a murderer and a madman who should be locked up in the deepest dungeon on this planet!" Meryl all but screamed, gesturing wildly at Knives. "But no! Here you are, letting him travel with us freely, when in fact he should be under the strictest surveillance possible –and you're not even bothering to control the constant, evil tricks he's playing on us others!"

"What are you trying to say, Meryl?" Vash frowned. "What's he done now?"

"He tried to make me jump out of the car just now."

Knives let out a derisive snort. "If that were true, spider, you wouldn't be here to complain about it, anymore."

"Excuse me!" Meryl was shaking with fury. "You have the cheek to call me a _liar_, do you?"

"Oh, but I would _never_ call you a liar, little spider. At least not to your face." A wicked smile was tugging the corners of Knives' mouth upwards. "I was just merely implying that your disrespectful insinuations about me mightn't entirely be true."

"Cut the crap, Knives. I could _feel_ you in my head, and you tried to make me jump out of this car!"

"No, I rather think you wanted to do that all on your own." Knives smirked. "Right after seeing how Vash was giving _me _his whole attention instead of _you_."

"That's outrageous! Vash, you must believe me! He tried to kill me, and you're just sitting there and doing nothing at all about it!"

"Knives?" Vash's voice was quivering.

Knives sighed, and then locked his eyes with Vash's. _'I didn't do anything, brother. You must realise we were having our wordless conversation right before that woman went crazy. I couldn't have controlled her and talked to you at the same time.'_

Vash felt a lump form in his throat, and he swallowed it quickly. It was true –his brother coulnd't have played with Meryl's mind. Not this time. But when had Meryl become a liar? This wasn't typical of her at all, and Vash was concerned.

'_I'm telling you.' _Knives was serious, as he laid his hand gently on Vash's thigh. _'She's a jealous, two-faced bitch who wants nothing more than to jump your dick at the first moment possible.'_

"Vash, he's _manipulating_ you! Can't you see?" Meryl shrieked. "At least you two could speak out loud so I could hear what dirty things that monster is saying about me!"

"Sempai?" Milly yawned, and turned to look at the three arguing persons in the backseat. She was sitting in the front with the driver herself, and had promptly fallen asleep just after fifteen minutes into the journey. Now, it seemed, she had awoken to the loud commotion. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's just fine." Vash managed to sound so resolute that both Meryl and Knives were taken aback. "Hear, Milly, would you mind asking our dear chauffeur how long it'll be until we reach the city?"

"Of course, Mr. Vash!" Milly beamed, and turned to talk to the driver.

Vash smiled at her. She truly was a nice girl; always so kind, always so happy. Even Knives seemed to tolerate her better than any other human, for some curious reason.

"Vash?" Meryl touched his arm, timidly. "I just... I'm sorry. I think I made a mistake. I... I guess I'm just tired."

Vash smoothly ignored her pleading expression. "It's all right. You'll get a good night's sleep in the Warrens City. We'll be there in no time, I promise."

Meryl sighed, and leaned her face into her hands. "Yeah. Whatever."

Vash closed his eyes against the merciless beams of the twin suns again, and tugged his collar a bit more open. It was still hot. _Unbearably_ hot. Besides, he was now angry.

Despite what the shorter insurance girl might think of him, Vash was not stupid. He _knew_ what games Knives was trying to play with him. Oh, yes, he knew, even if he let his brother and the girls think otherwise for the time being.

Knives was sly. Knives was testing a new method on Vash: he was trying to claim his trust, sympathy and love, in order to control him without being so completely obvious about it. Furthermore, he was trying to do all this by making Vash feel confused, guilty and affectionate at the same time –not to mention sexually aroused on more than several occasions.

Vash grinned. What an interesting way to approach their inflamed relationship. And, what was the best of it all: Knives had not yet realised that there were actually _two_ of them who could play the very same game –with the very same rules.

Vash closed his fingers over Knives' hand that was still resting on his thigh, and his grin widened into a smirk.

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…**To Be Continued...**

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	9. Misconduct Penalty

**Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun. Yashuhiro Nightow does.**

A/N: This chapter takes a slightly surprising turn... I guess. But, rest assured, all will be explained later.

WARNINGS: Nothing particularly new to add.

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**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 9: Misconduct Penalty**

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The night was cold and dark –just like nights had always been in the deep, barren wilderness of Planet Gunsmoke. However, the bottomless darkness was broken in the distant horizon where the lights of the Warrens City were shimmering with pallid lustre. The city was like a jewel in the middle of absolute nothingness, beautiful and alluring. And now it would perhaps even remain so, what with Knives' evil schemes botched –or at least temporarily postponed.

Smiling to himself, Vash bent his head and buried his nose in his brother's hair. He inhaled the familiar, comforting scent of his twin and felt strangely comfortable with the world.

Knives was soundly asleep. The medicine he'd been forced to take earlier that day had made him zone out quickly and decidedly like a broken plant. His head was resting on Vash's shoulder, and he was eliciting soft, quiet snores as he was breathing. Vash grinned; Knives would have been _mortified_ to know that he snored.

Vash stretched his back and allowed his thoughts drift towards the future. What kind of future was there waiting for them? Wolfwood had always wished to live long enough to see the Eden. The perfect place where the green valleys would wipe out the sandy deserts, where the rivers would flow with sparkling water instead of blood.

A place where there would _be_ rivers, in the first place.

Vash had no idea if the Eden would ever come, but it sure sounded wonderful. Even _Knives _wished to see the coming of the paradise. Although, this far, Knives had clearly expressed his very own ideas as to what kind of a place _his_ Eden would be like, and it had nothing to do with rivers and lush valleys. Instead, it had everything to do with spiders and butterflies, and the eternal conflict between them. Would Knives ever see reason?

Vash felt an unpleasant weight of responsibility land on his shoulders. He had pondered it before, and he pondered it now: why were they here? Two humanoid plants, living among the mortals? There had to be a _purpose _for that. Rem probably would have known that purpose. After all, she was the one who originally let them live.

However, Vash thought he knew the answers already. He just didn't want to think about them, since his brother was what he was, and since the world was such an unresponsive, cruel place. But still, the stabbing vein underneath his left temple didn't stop torturing him until he let his mind open up to the one thought that scared him the most: that _they _were meant to create the Eden. He and Knives. The two perfect, immortal beings with powers to control the plants. Maybe Vash was meant to be the new Adam, and Knives was meant to be Eve.

Vash closed his eyes. He was too tired to think, anymore.

"Seems we'll reach Warrens City soon." Meryl's voice carried through the roaring of the car's motor, tired and weak. She had wrapped Milly's green cloak around her shoulders, and yet she was shivering. The night was truly cold. "And about the time, too. We've been travelling already nineteen hours, without any proper stop. My back is hurting, and I'm _freezing._"

Vash looked at her fondly, pulled her close and rubbed her back with his prosthetic hand. "I'll have you drink hot thomas milk when we reach the town. Try not to get a fever."

"It's not like I can _decide_ whether to get it or not!" Meryl sulked. "But I'll take your offer about that thomas milk."

Their conversation was interrupted by a vicious coughing fit from the sleeping Knives.

"You'd better make sure _he _won't get the fever," Meryl pointed out. "He isn't yet completely healed and his resistance is down. A cold or a fever could prove surprisingly dangerous to him at this point. Even _fatal_."

"What?" Vash went pale. "Is that true?"

Meryl shrugged, the corner of her mouth turning upwards. "Well, I can't really say since he's not exactly _human, _but I would be careful about it nonetheless. You might never know."

Knives coughed again, and this time he woke up with the trembling and pain. Vash instantly pulled him closer, offering him the shelter of his arms. "Are you cold?"

Knives' voice was raspy. "What does it look like, you idiot?"

"Would you like to have my sweater?"

"I would, but then _you_ would be freezing." Knives pushed away from his brother and glared at him. "Don't treat me like a six-year-old little girl. I can take care of myself. I'm perfectly fine."

"Of course you are. I was just worried, that's all."

"You're always worried about something, aren't you, Vash?" Knives snapped, and pulled away from his brother's touch. "Stop being like that. You will grow old, despite the fact that you never should."

"But..."

"Just shut up, stupid. Let me be."

"Fine! Be that way."

"Thank you, I will!"

"I don't understand. You were raised by Rem, just like me. How could you possibly turn out this awful?"

"Yeah, go figure."

Knives rolled his eyes and snuggled against Vash's side, trying to find a comfortable position. Meryl indicated with a pointed look what he thought about Knives' stubborn attitude before closing her eyes. Vash let out a silent moan –he vaguely realised he had a massive head-ache coming –and traced his fingers through Knives' hair.

_'You better not get sick.'_

_'Vashu dearest.__ If there's any chance I'm going to be sick, it's because of your revolting habit of fussing over me all the time. I don't need your pampering, do you hear me?'_

Vash shook his head, feeling slightly insulted, and turned his attention to the glowing horizon again. _Fine_. If Knives didn't want his care anymore, he sure as hell wouldn't force it on him.

_'Yeah.'_Vash gritted his teeth. _'Yeah, I hear you, Knives. No more pampering.'_

* * *

They reached Warrens City just before dawn. The driver dropped them off by the town's round square before disappearing with the night's last shadows back into the desert. The travellers were all more or less exhausted, and the first thing on their mind was to find someplace to rest. 

Meryl noticed the familiar café where she had been enjoying banana sundaes with Milly on their last visit to the town. It had been months ago –almost a year ago, actually- and they hadn't even known Wolfwood back then. Come to think of it, they hadn't even been sure that _their_ Vash the Stampede was really _the_ Vash the Stampede, back then. Again, Meryl felt like she hadn't quite grasped the time as it had slithered by.

Feeling slightly nauseated, she picked up her bag and strode forwards. "Come on, let's ask there. I happen to know they keep a few guest rooms for occasional tourists. I heard some townspeople recommend the place, last time we were here."

Twenty minutes (and one heated argument between Knives and Meryl) later, the travellers were finally able to settle in for the rest of the night. Knives, resting heavily against his brother as Vash assisted him up the stairs, had not readily agreed to sleep in the attic of some stupid old coffee-house. Besides the fact that the place was outright derelict according to Knives' superior standards, the owners were also unusually ugly for spiders.

Vash had hit him over the head with his prosthetic arm, and Knives had grudgingly taken another kind of approach on the matter.

They were given two rooms; one for the insurance girls, the other for the twins. Knives found their room even more horrible than what he had originally anticipated, but one glance at Vash made him shut his mouth about it. It seemed his brother could be very angry when he was tired. Besides, Knives' quarrel with Meryl awhile ago hadn't exactly lifted anyone else's spirits but Knives' own.

"We'll meet Frank Marlon tomorrow. Make sure to improve your manners by then."

Vash spoke with harshness Knives had not heard in his brother's tone of voice before. It made him feel rather apprehensive and he didn't like it one bit; he hadn't felt like this since the happenings of Lost July, when Vash had nearly shot him dead. But this was no July, so why? Why was Vash giving him the cold shoulder again?

"I'm going to get a shower. You do what you want, meanwhile, as far as you don't kill anyone."

Vash threw Knives uncaringly onto the double bed before stalking out of the room and into the bathroom. Confused, Knives sat on the bed and tried to ignore the dull aching of his wounds. He bent down to open the fastenings of his boots and kicked them off. His right calf –the one that was still wrapped in thick bandages –was feeling particularly sensitive after being forced into tight footwear and Knives was certain his toes were slightly purplish in hue.

He buried his face in his hands and groaned.

In the bathroom, the toilet was flushed and the water taps of the shower began running. Knives perked up and instantly thought about his brother's naked body. Two seconds afterwards, he cursed his own idiocy. Why was he feeling this way about his own brother? At first he had found the strange attraction a fun game to play, but now it was beginning to gain more serious features -a fairly alarming discovery, now that he really thought about it. Vash's current, distant behaviour was affecting him more than what he wanted to admit.

Knives glanced behind him, out of the window that was framed with ugly marshmallow red curtains. The sky beyond was still very dark, despite there was a thin line of orange light in the distance. Knives fastened his gaze on that orange streak, knowing that the two suns were still lingering somewhere out there though he couldn't see them right now. The two _beautiful_ twin suns... the silhouettes of himself and his brother. Although at the moment, Vash's sun seemed to be shining a tad more brightly than his.

Feeling somewhat depressed, Knives began to shake off his jacket. He grimaced with pain as his wounds were disturbed, but didn't let out a sound. He was tired of being weak and defenceless. He was tired of being considered subdued, when in fact he was just momentarily enchained.

"Your turn to use the loo." Vash emerged from the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around his hips. "You'll find my razor and a new toothbrush on the shelf over the sink."

Knives knew he was staring, but he couldn't turn his eyes away. Especially after Vash unceremoniously flung the towel off and began to dry his hair with it. Knives coughed, feeling suddenly hot under the collar. He exerted all his strength in order to stand up on his own, before Vash would notice his reddened cheeks and realise the true reason behind them.

Vash glared at him with irritation, but didn't say anything.

"I suppose we're going to get some sleep before we head out this morning?" Knives asked as he slowly edged towards the bathroom.

"You were sleeping the entire way here. I don't see any reason why we shouldn't meet Marlon as early as possible."

"The insurance girls?" Knives suggested. "They're tired, I'm sure."

"Yeah, well they aren't coming with us." Vash pulled on a pair of black pyjama trousers and a soft-looking shirt. "However, if you insist, I might allow us a few hours rest. I'm not too keen on going out too early, myself, since I'm sure Frank won't wake up until the suns have completely arisen. Besides, the bed looks inviting."

For the first time, Knives realised they were going to have to share a bed -again. It was a fact that simultaneously cheered him up and made him feel slightly terrified. He was accustomed to Vash's presence during the past two weeks, but they hadn't shared a bed since their first few nights in the hospital. The doctors had namely delivered Vash an own mattress to sleep on fairly quickly. Somehow they hadn't appreciated the idea of two gorgeous men sleeping together in the same bunk.

Shivering at the myriad of wild thoughts running through his tired mind, Knives slipped into the bathroom and made his necessary activities. When he returned, there was a huge mug of warm thomas milk waiting for him. Vash replied his questioning glare with a snort. "I ordered it for Meryl, but she was already asleep."

Knives, still insulted about his brother's reserved behaviour, tossed his head. "Well, I don't want it."

"Who said it was for you?" Vash shrugged, and grabbed the mug. "I merely waited until it had cooled enough so that it could be enjoyed."

"Uh-huh. Right."

"Say, Knives, what are you expecting from me?" Vash asked, standing up and pacing about the room. "What do you think I'm going to do with you, eventually?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you should. That's why I'm going to tell you." Vash sipped the thomas milk. "I thought about my options just now when I was showering, and I've finally reached a conclusion."

"And what, if I may ask, is your conclusion?" Knives sneered.

"I'm going to bring you back to the Plant Ship. And then I'm going to imprison you inside one of the plant bulbs." Vash looked at him with hard eyes. "After that, you'll be just like one of our sisters; alive, but unable to manipulate the world. Unable to _destroy_ the world."

Knives paled. "You can't be serious, Vash! That's the most disgusting and sadistic thing I have ever heard anyone say!"

"Come now. You deserve no freedom, unless you can use it with excellence and justice. We have been granted great power in our birth, and with that power we should also accept great responsibility." Vash's aqua-green eyes were gleaming with frost.

Knives laughed. "Responsibility?"

"Yeah. Responsibility. And let's face it: you don't have it. You don't take any responsibility of this world, of these humans. You're just a monster, Knives." Vash turned his back on his brother. "Nothing but a freaking _monster._"

A freezing stab of pain went through Knives' heart. Nothing could have insulted him more than Vash calling him _that! _Vash was beginning to sound just like _Steve_. Sure Vash hadn't forgotten what had happened to _him_, had he?

Knives balled his fists, shaking all over.

However, instead of attacking his brother either physically or mentally, Knives broke down and began to cry.

--

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**...To Be Continued…**

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A/N: Hope you liked. -timid smile-

-Lances


	10. Closer

**Disclaimer: Trigun is not mine. This story is outright horrible abuse of the characters, and I apologize. Just remember I'm the sick one, and Yasuhiro Nightow is the king.

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**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 10: Closer**

**--**

Completely tantalized, Knives touched the corner of his left eye. He then brought his fingers to his lips and tasted the bittersweet moisture. _Tears?_ It could not be. He wasn't supposed to cry. He wasn't supposed to know _how_ to cry. Not anymore...

"What did you do to me, Vash? What did you _do?_"

"What are you talking about?"

"S-something's broken." Knives stammered. "Inside of me. I can feel it... it hurts."

Vash actually smirked. "It's your heart, no? Imagine that. I never knew you still _had_ yours."

Looking wild, Knives only waited five seconds before he roughly pushed his brother aside and ran out of the room.

--

Vash stood there in the hotel room, staring at the empty spot where his brother had only moments ago been. Then he realised what had just happened, and the glass of thomas milk he'd been holding fell down on the floor.

"Shit."

Vash kicked the door open so hard that it nearly fell out of its hinges as he rushed after his brother.

--

Luckily, Vash didn't have to run very long before he spotted his brother's limping figure in the waning lamplight at the end of the road. Vash was slightly surprised he'd gotten even that far, seeing as he could hardly walk without assistance. Shaking his head and sighing with relief, Vash began to jog towards his twin. What an idiot! Knives didn't even have his jacket and boots on. He would freeze to death unless Vash could get him back to their room and quickly. And now that he really thought about it, he noticed that he, too, was only in his pyjamas.

Vash gained his brother, grabbed him from the shoulders and turned him forcefully around. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

Knives was breathing rapidly, his shoulders shaking with the effort of walking and holding back his tears. "Where do you _think_ I am going, stupid? As far away from you as possible!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Knives!" Vash shook his twin quite harshly. "You're not going anywhere. Come on, let me take you back to our room."

Knives slapped him. And slapped him again.

Vash grimaced, but didn't ease his grip on his twin –only held him tighter so that Knives couldn't move his hands, anymore. "Happy now?"

"No!" Knives glared at him with venom. "If you think for one second that you can treat me like this... treat me like _he_ did you're sorely mistaken. I'll _die _before I let you imprison me. I'll..."

Vash slapped him back. "Shut the fuck up and take a breath, will you? Fuck!"

Knives _did_ shut up, although he was silently growling with anger like a rabid dog.

"Listen..." Vash didn't quite know what to say, but he tried, anyway. "What I said was horrible and I didn't mean it. I just... I mean... Whatever I say or do, you never listen! You never learn! I yell at you, and you yell back. I hit you, and you hit back. If I threaten to kill you, you just laugh at my face. You always underestimate me, always mock me. That's why..."

Vash swallowed. He was embarrassed to find out that he, too, had started to feel the familiar moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"I just wanted to threaten you with something you might actually think I was _capable of doing_, Knives. I just wanted you to know... that I really _could_ be dangerous."

Knives watched him, a look of careful contemplation in his eyes. Their eyes met, and Vash felt suddenly very weak in the knees. For the first time since their childhood, Knives was looking at him without hostility, without disappointment. In fact, Vash could almost detect some kind of deep affection in those deep blue eyes. Some kind of strong, primitive connection between them...

And then Knives kicked him hard in the stomach.

Vash doubled with pain and released his grip. Knives kicked him again before punching him straight to the nose. Vash tasted blood in his mouth as he staggered backwards and glared at his twin.

Knives was looking at him with barely concealed disgust, massaging his fist. "You stay the fuck away from me, Vash."

Vash spat out the blood that had gathered in his mouth. "You wish."

Knives tilted his head and narrowed his eyes that looked almost golden in the wavering light of the crackly old street lamp. He really looked rather breath-taking, in Vash's opinion. "I won't let you conquer me."

"That's all right." Vash smiled, blood trickling down his jaw. "I never asked for your permission, anyway."

The next moment, Vash bounced his brother and pushed him down on the ground. It wasn't exactly a difficult thing to do since Knives still was half invalid, even though Knives himself had obviously momentarily forgotten this fact in his blinding rage. Easily and swiftly, Vash settled down on his brother's hips and grabbed his pale blond hair in his strong, prosthetic hand. He twisted and pulled back, and Knives moaned with pain.

"You bring this upon yourself, you do realise that, don't you?" Vash leaned forwards so that his face was very close to his brother's. "You'd better accept the fact that you're completely under my mercy now. There's no-one else on this godforsaken planet who would take care of you. And say what you say... we both know that you do need to be taken care of. We both know... that you need _me_."

Knives' chest was rapidly rising and falling beneath him, and Vash smirked as he realised that Knives was, in fact, turned on by all this activity. Could it be possible that Knives hadn't been faking at all? Was there something _real_ hidden behind all his artificial flirting? Vash was both shocked and exhilarated by this revelation, and wanted to find out exactly _how_ genuine Knives' reactions to his advances were.

Still pulling at his brother's tangled hair, Vash began to fondle his neck and jawline with his other hand. The skin felt hot in the coldness of the night, and so very soft. Knives was immovable underneath him, and only his ragged breathing proved him to be still alive. Quickly, Vash lowered his lips to his brother's ear and whispered. "Well? Am I right? Do you need me?"

Knives didn't answer. Vash smirked before he gently bit his brother's earlobe. Knives tensed completely underneath him and loudly gasped for air. Satisfied, Vash nibbled his way down to his brother's neck and finally kissed him right under the chin. Then he let his mouth hover a few seconds above his brother's slightly parted lips, and just when Knives was about to close the distance between them, he pulled back.

"I guess this means you're not going to give me any more trouble tonight, right?"

Knives didn't reply, but only stared at the nearby lamp post, eyes gleaming with tears of mortification.

Vash tousled his hair and smirked. "Good boy."

* * *

The coldness seeped through every fiber of his being like fast plague. In vain, he tried to control the wanton shivers that continuously ran through his aching body. Pearls of cold sweat formed on his forehead as he tried to endure the dull pain that had suddenly began to throb in his every muscle. 

He felt sick.

The pillow felt rough under his cheek and the blanket felt heavy. The faint daylight that was seeping through the ugly curtains hurt his swollen eyes, but he still couldn't close them. He couldn't take his gaze off his brother, his beautiful brother, who was sleeping right next to him with a touch of smile on his serene lips.

It was two hours after his little adventure with Vash, and they were both back in their hotel room. Vash was sound asleep, but Knives couldn't relax. What exactly had happened tonight? Knives huddled into a tight ball and tried to figure that out.

This entire situation was macabre. Completely twisted and deformed. Knives didn't know what was happening, and that frightened him. He was used to being in control at all times, and this role of a well-treated puppy didn't quite suit him. He wasn't good at following or taking orders, he was the one to _give_ them. However, he knew he couldn't resist his brother. Not now. Not in his current condition –both mental and physical. Knives was utterly confused, and things just kept on becoming more confusing. Did he even _want _to resist his brother, anymore? He was horrified to find out there was actually a little voice in his heart that told him that things could be much better if only he'd let Vash take care of him. Take care of them both.

All of a sudden, Knives' mind was filled with memories of their distant past. Bitter night surrounded him, and he felt a small seed of panic settle in his heart. He was two years old again, feeling powerful and young. He was resting in the shadow of a tall rock, pretending to be asleep. And he heard those voices in the darkness again; the sounds of Vash picking up a heavy rock and breathing rapidly just behind him.

On guard, body entirely tensed, Knives once more prepared for what he knew would soon happen. He waited, and he waited... and then he heard the rock fall. On the ground. Not even _near_ his head. Running footsteps, accompanied by painful sobs, indicated to Knives that Vash had gone. That good-for-nothing, weepy-faced kid! Honestly!

Knives opened his eyes he'd not even realised he'd shut. The memory was rapidly fading.

_Who_ exactly was the good-for-nothing, weepy-faced kid, now? With insecure fingers, Knives touched his own cheek. It was damp; whether from feverish sweat or silent tears, he didn't know anymore. Maybe from both. The shivers of the fever engulfed him, and he felt the reality slip away. Nightmares tortured him, one after another, and he just couldn't stop silently crying in his long, restless sleep.

When he woke up several hours after, he felt his brother's cold hand resting on his forehead.

"Shit, Knives! You're outright burning!"

--

**To Be Continued**

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A/N: I'm sorry it took me this long to update this chapter. I've been very busy and the chapter was very difficult. Please visit/friend my Livejournal if you're interested to know how I'm proceeding with this story. There you can find my poor excuses as to why I'm not updating, as well as some other ramblings you might as well want to skip. Anyway, the LJ is under the username 'angryon' if you'd like to check it out. 

-Lances


	11. Human Nature

**Disclaimer: Trigun is not mine. This story is outright horrible abuse of the characters, and I apologize. Just remember I'm the perverted one, and Yashuhiro Nightow is the genius behind this all.**

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**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 11: Human Nature**

Vash lay in bed next to his brother, staring at Knives' pale, tortured face. He couldn't reach his brother's delirious mind with telepathy and he couldn't make him wake up. He hated to admit it, but he was _afraid_.

Knives was in Very Bad Condition, and was getting worse by the moment. Milly was there to take care of him, but nothing she did seemed to help. She had brought warm blankets and fresh water –she'd even called to the local dispensary and bought some remedial herbs that had cost Vash all his money- but Knives still wouldn't get any better.

Vash was even more worried because he couldn't remember himself ever being sick. Surely, if it was possible for him to get ill in the first place, a hundred and thirty years would've been a sufficient time to catch a flu or something? Yet he'd never even had a sore throat, if not counted his countless hangover mornings after the vicious business of vomiting. No... Diseases just didn't seem to catch him. Therefore, in Vash's opinion, it was strange that _Knives_ should get so ill so very easily. After all, they were twins and alike in every way.

Vash was _very_ disturbed.

Milly sat down on the bed next to them and pressed a cool towel against Knives' forehead. She had a worried expression on her face, but her gaze was directed on Vash instead of the real patient. "You okay, Mr. Vash?"

"Yeah. I guess." Vash tried to smile.

Milly fished a thermometer out of her pocket and asked Vash to put it in Knives' armpit. Vash felt immense gratitude towards her. She at least seemed to know _what to do_ in this kind of situation. Vash had namely no idea; all _he_ could think of doing was to hold his brother gently and try to send him soothing thoughts through their mental link –even though Knives wasn't very receptive at the moment. But now, with the thermometer in his had, he felt like he could be of some acual help.

"I'll leave you two to it. Check the fever and let me know if there's any change." Milly straightened herself and stood up. "I'll go see Meryl for a while. We'll be in our room."

"Okay."

After she was gone, Vash gently pulled Knives' blankets aside and smoothed the silken chest that became slowly revealed. Knives seemed to like the touch, probably because Vash's hand was relievingly cold, and he moaned silently. It had to be hot, what with all those bandages still wrapped around his torso. Sighing, Vash took the thermometer and set it in place. Then he readjusted the blankets and snuggled against his twin's side.

"I don't think this is going to help any." Vash whispered against Knives' cheek, slowly caressing his lenghty, silver-blond curls. "But I really don't know what else to do!"

Vash felt Knives shivering next to him and pulled him closer. Not that his affectionate gestures would be of any importance: Knives was hardly aware of anything that was happening around him and _hugging_ simply –sadly- wasn't a method that could exorcise diseases. Vash closed his eyes and hesitantly kissed his brother's temple. What was he honestly supposed to _do _right now? Vash hoped someone would drop all the answers in a neat little box from heaven just in front of him.

_The spiders... They torture me, Vash. They spin their webs around me and suffocate me. Don't... Don't let them eat me._

Vash gasped with surprise. "Knives? You awake?"

_Their touch burns me, Vash... They are going to spear me with their long, sharp talons! And I will bleed... you will bleed... They are demons, sent from Earth to ruin us both. Don't you see? Kill them all, Vash! Kill them before it's too late! Look what they did to Tessla... look what they did to HER! Don't you love me anymore... Vashu?_

"Knives, you're making no sense!" Vash gently shook his brother's shoulders. "You're having delusions.. _nightmares_."

_Love... Nowhere... Over-estimated feeling... I hate you, love. I hate the spiders too. Kill them for me, love?_

Knives was crying now, still completely delirious, and Vash was guiltily wiping those salty, wet trails away. "No, no... I can't kill them for you, love. But I can protect you from them. And I can protect _them_... from _you_. That's how it's supposed to be, love."

And the box with the answers inside was suddenly open in front of him, and everything was frighteningly clear.

"We are going to make our own Eden, Knives. I promise you." Vash leaned his forehead against Knives'. "But our Eden won't be here. It won't be anywhere near where the spiders live. I need to take us both away... Far away. Knives... I will need to take you back to the Plant Ship."

_Plant Ship... Far away... _

"Yes. That's right. But _first_..." Vash stood up and went to put his jacket on. "There's something else that needs to be done."

Vash slithered his hand under the blankets and withdrew the thermometer. The temperature had remained the alarming same. "I'll ask Milly to sit with you while I'm gone. Do try to act nicely towards her."

* * *

Knives woke up to a feeling of uttermost discomfort. The world swayed in his vision, and he couldn't decide where he was, what time it was, or why he was feeling so powerless. It all irritated him to no end, and he turned in bed so that he could see the flickering sunshine through the window.

So it wasn't night, at least.

Knives spent the following two hours restlessly twisting and turning in his bed. He still lacked coherent thought, but that wasn't so bad since he was a superior being and superior beings had the _right_ to lack something essential once in a while. He'd only have to decide it was _in_ to be a bit lunatic, and everyone would forgive him. Or die.

Once or twice, Milly Thompson came to see him. She was a lousy spider, true, yet she was reasonably acceptable, and therefore Knives didn't feel the immediate need to kill her. There was just something about Milly that made Knives feel calm around her. She didn't touch him unless it was absolutely necessary; she didn't speak to him unless she had something really urgent to say, and she didn't radiate hatred towards him like that shorter woman did. And, most importantly, she was Vash's little pet, and Vash wouldn't be very thrilled if Knives hurt her in any way.

Instead, Knives just watched her silently as she came to attend him.

The second time she came about, she brought a can of fresh water and made great effort just to set it on the bedside table without making noise. Knives was actually rather pleased -to his own horror.

"Hey ssspider." Knives slurred, his voice slightly thick. "Why are you doing this?"

The girl recoiled, surprised, but didn't otherwise seem to be afraid of him. "Because it's what Mr. Vash asked me to do."

"I'm sure your friend Meryl wouldn't approve. I'm sure she's not very happy that you come to see me like this, all on your own." Knives gave her a feverish smile. "I might kill you."

Milly looked down at him with her honest, sky blue eyes. "Yes, you might."

Knives frowned. "How do I get this feeling that you don't really care?"

Her eyes glazed over, and she turned to leave the room. "That's because I just _don't._"

This wasn't what Knives had expected. Least of all from _her_. Granted, he didn't know Milly Thompson very well –nor did he ever want to- but he'd been around her long enough to learn that this behaviour was far away from her usual merry self. She was clearly upset about something.

Curious rather than worried, Knives called after her. "You're going to have to tell _someone_, little spider."

Milly stopped in her tracks and took a shivering breath. Then, to Knives' utter surprise, she closed the door and came to sit next to him on the bed. She looked down at him with those very light blue eyes of her –a colour that was somehow disturbingly _diluted_ in Knives' opinion- and examined his face. "My problem is... that I don't care about anything, anymore. I don't _feel_ anything anymore. Absolutely nothing."

"How sad." Knives sneered, not feeling sad at all.

Milly responded with a vicious glare. "Wolfwood... when he died, I felt so bad. I've never cried so much in my life. It hurt so much, back then. But ever since we left the town... ever since I left him there... I haven't felt anything. Even now I feel nothing. I don't feel any sorrow inside me, I don't feel any joy. No relief is granted for me, yet nothing tortures me either. I just feel... blank. So very blank."

Knives watched him, shivering under the assault of the fever. "You mustn't feel that way. It gives me no pleasure to kill people who are already _willing_ to die."

"Then I have nothing to worry about, do I?" She stood up, and smiled down at him, despite her smile was empty.

"You're carrying his child."

Milly instantly wrapped her arms around her belly. "H-how could you tell?"

Knives looked at her calculatingly. "I tried out of curiosity. To reach him, you know. I could feel the line of his undeveloped thoughts. Does anybody else know?"

"No!" She looked terrified. "I haven't told anyone. Anyone except Nicholas. I'm not sure... if they would understand."

"I think they would." Knives was surprised by his own reassuring words -the influence of the blasted illness, he decided. "I think they would be even happy for you. However... What _I_ don't understand is that you feel nothing when you so obviously have every reason to feel everything."

"What do you mean?" Milly asked.

"I mean that you wouldn't mind me killing you despite you're preagnant. That just fights against everything I've ever learned about human beings. I always thought preagnant human females were very sensitive when it came to their feelings and moods." Knives frowned. "So... I just wondered... Is this some kind of... human way... to act when one loses a loved one? To become so numb one's willing to give up everything – even all the other loved ones they still have left? Even their own _unborn children_?"

"No!" Milly outright burst out crying. "Knives... It's the most _inhuman_ way to act in the world."

Without warning, she took Knives' hand in her own and squeezed it. Knives, of course, was instantly rigid with horror -yet he couldn't but admire how completely unafraid of danger the girl was. Her touch felt warm and slightly moist, and Knives was sure he would get another kind of disease atop of the fever from her fingers. He withdrew his own hand as quickly as possible and glared at her. "Don't. Touch. Me."

"I'm sorry." Milly wiped her tears and actually grinned. "Are you going to kill me now?"

Knives sputtered. "No! I'm _not_ going to kill you! Why do you want me to do it anyway?"

"_I can't live without him!"_ She finally lost her control and started yelling. "Each day I want to rip my heart out of my chest and bury it deep in the desert just because he's no longer here to tell me that everything's going to be alright!"

"How heart-wrenching. I'm almost touched."

"You don't know anything about it, Knives, so I don't even _expect_ you to be touched. You don't know how it feels to be in love with somebody!"

"Actually..."

"You don't know how it feels like to have a beautiful future ahead of you and then have it ripped away in a fast, fleeting moment! You don't know how it feels like to lose the one and only person who's ever thought you as beautiful and sweet and desirable! You don't know how it feels like to lose a _lover_ and a _friend, _since I'm pretty sure you've never had either, and you most certainly don't know how it feels like to lose all of your dreams"

"If you're talking about Wolfwood, I think you should know that he was deceiving you from the beginning." Knives sneered, despite his sneer lost some of its edge because of the terrible shudders that raked through his body. "He was working for _me_, little spider. If young Chapel ever told you any of those things, if he ever told you everything's going to be alright, he was outrageously playing down the state of affairs."

"You like to _think_ he worked for you, don't you, Knives? Your own, clever little spy, Nicholas D. Woldwood! Hah! You know as well as I do that the only person he really worked for was your _brother_." Milly crossed the room and looked out of the window. "He loved your brother... as much as I loved _him."_

A chill went down Knives' spine. "What are you trying to say?"

"You still don't see it, do you?" She sighed. "Nicholas... Wolfwood... _Chapel... _it doesn't really matter what you call him. He's still the same, good person inside, and will always be. He was the only one who could keep me sane through all the terrible times we went through with Mr. Vash. We even loved each other, did you know that, Knives? We loved each other, and we were going to get married. But we never did. Not because he died before his time... But because there was always someone else... whom he loved _more_."

Knives' breathing became almost non-existent. "No..."

"_Yes_." Milly laughed, silently but bitterly. "Love is such a fickle little thing, isn't it? You can't help getting the infection, if it's bound to catch you. You can't predict the day when you will lose it, and you can't even bribe it to stay. For me... I fell in love, but my tender feelings weren't answered the way I had always hoped. Just because _he_ had already found someone else to love before he learned of _my_ feelings. And _you..._" Milly shook her head. "You're just pathetic. You ruined your own chance of happiness already over a hundred years ago, and for what? You lost it all because of your senseless ideology about spiders and butterflies! Do you have _any idea _how much that _angers_ me_?"_

Knives was totally speechless. "I..."

"It angers me because this is all your fault! All of this!" Tears spilled from her eyes again. "If you hadn't been such an ass to begin with, you'd have gotten Vash to yourself already long ago. Decades ago! And Nicholas... Nicholas would've been completely _mine!"_

Knives blinked his eyes, letting her words sink in. _Wolfwood!_ Wolfwood had been involved with Vash! Knives wanted to cut off the man's dick, peel the flesh out of his limbs so that only bone would remain and make him roll in the desert sand. He wanted to rip out all his insides and stick that annoying, burning cigarette through his eyes before drowning his sore, bleeding body into a pool of saltwater. Knives was seething. No-one should have touched his brother. Not like _that_. If only the man wasn't already dead!

But... His _child... _His child _wasn't _dead.

Knives let his eyes stray back to Milly's round lower abdomen. There, lulling in the sense of false safety, was the bastard son of Nicholas D. Wolfwood –the one man Knives had never liked, but whom he'd hired nonetheless. Revenge was always sweet... _so_ sweet...

No. NO. There was no point killing the baby. The original target of his bottomless hatred wouldn't know of it since he continued to be dead. Besides, that kind of action would only make Vash angry. So very angry... It might even lead to Vash abandoning him completely. And that was something he didn't want. After all, Vash was his world. His _entire_ world.

"Little spider... This was a good try. Almost worthy of a true Gung-ho Gun. But I'm still not going to kill you or your child."

She looked down at her hands. "I'm surprised, honestly. I thought you hated us. Vermin."

"I do. I'm just not in the killing mood right now, being half dead myself."

They spent a couple of minutes in a complete silence, both thinking about what had just transpired between them. Milly played with her hair and stared out of the window with empty eyes. Knives tried to control the weakness that was rapidly flowing over him, and reached for a glass of water. However, it slipped from his fingers and fell onto the floor, the contents of it spilling all over the carpet.

Milly was instantly by his side, pouring him a new glass. Knives accepted it greedily.

"Milly... Is that really your name? Milly?"

"Yes."

"What a stupid, hideous name."

"Well, what was _your_ mother thinking when she decided to call you _Millions Knives?_ Was she some sort of a butcher, or a mass murderer, perhaps?"

Knives condescendingly found himself amused. "No, she was a goddess."

"But of course she was." Milly leered.

Knives shook his head, and coughed up some disgusting slime. He wiped it on the bedsheets. "About earlier, spider... You don't seem to be hating my brother for what he's done."

Milly looked up at him in surprise. "Mr. Vash? He hasn't done anything wrong."

Knives stared at her. "You just told me in so many words that he seduced your fiancé. How is that _not_ wrong?"

"No, he didn't seduce Nicholas." Milly almost smiled. "He never knew."

"He... never knew?"

"Wolfwood and I... we were a happy couple in the eyes of the outside world. Nobody except for me knew about his secret... his little obsession."

"Vash..."

"Your brother is quite innocent, I'm afraid. He's always been. They call _me_ naïve and childish... but there are just some things I realise better than others. Vash never realised how attached Nicholas was to him... and I never told him, either. Because I wanted to believe in my dreams."

"Everybody wants to believe in their dreams."

"Yes... as long as those dreams aren't completely shattered. Nicholas died and left me here, all alone. And I can never have him back. I can never have my dream back."

"Wolfwood hasn't completely abandoned you, little spider." Knives closed his eyes. He was feeling like his every muscle was exploding inside of him, and he fought against the approaching unconsciousness. "His spirit lives on in the heart of his unborn son. You would see this, if you weren't so egoistical and self-absorbed, if you didn't think only of yourself. But, I guess, there was nothing better to be expected of you. It's the vile human nature, after all."

"Knives..."

"If I had children, I would do everything in my power to protect them, to love them!" He hissed. "But, of course, I will never have them."

Milly was just about to say something, but Knives interrupted her. "You've been here long enough. It's time for you to leave. I will not kill you for the time being; I find no pleasure in killing people when they don't even realise what they will lose when they die. Now... dash off and think about things. When you've realised what you've got, come back again and I might reconsider your request."

Silently, she obeyed. However, she glanced back at him from the doorway. "You would do anything in your power to make sure that Vash wouldn't leave you again. Wouldn't you?"

A strange, heavy feeling conquered his heart and made him nearly choke. With an unpleasant taste in his mouth, Knives was forced to accept that the feeling rising in his heart was probably the one feeling he thought he'd already lost for good. The feeling he had last felt over a hundred years ago –the feeling he would now neither name nor analyze.

"I will do everything in my power to make him stay with you." Milly closed the door and left him in the solitude of the room once more.

She felt more alive than what she'd felt in weeks.

* * *

Frank Marlon, grinning from ear to ear, nearly jumped over the counter to meet his friend.

"If it isn't Vash the Stampede!" he laughed, pulling Vash into a bear hug. "Yes, yes, don't look so confused, I've finally learned your name. And from a travelling priest, no less! You can imagine my surprise when that strange clergyman tossed your fancy .45 Long Colt in front of me and told me to fix it. I asked him where he got it, and he said it belonged to you –Vash the Stampede! What a joke! Whahaha!"

"Well..." Vash smiled, although it hurt to think about Wolfwood. This all must have happened just before he got into the hospital after defending Lina from that one dead-ugly pedophile.

"And here I had _no idea_ who you were when we first met!" Frank grabbed Vash's arm and began to drag him towards the back room of the store. "I should've guessed, though. Only the real Vash the Stampede could have been as _crazy_ as you were back then. Standing against raging mad criminals without a single gun... such deception I couldn't believe it honestly worked out!"

"If I recall correctly, you were right there with me, and you didn't have a gun, either."

Vash shook his head and fished a heavy bottle of suspicious-looking drink from the depths of his new black jacket. "I recall I promised to bring you _bourbon_ if I ever came to see you again. However, only the label's real. This actually contains soda water. Hope you still like it."

"Thank you, thank you!" Frank beamed. "We'll open it later. You're right, no alcohol for me anymore. But now, tell me, what brings you here? Your gun needs to be fixed again, does it?"

"Well, kind of." Vash's smile slightly faltered. "I have another gun that needs your expert touch."

Vash triggered his left arm to turn into the weapon it actually was. Frank, of course, was amazed. He hadn't seen anything like it before. It was very high technology and very impressive. He was almost afraid of touching it.

"So... Do you think you can do anything about it? My, er... well." Vash cleared his throat. "An acquaintance of mine managed to get a good shot at it when we were duelling a while back. As you can see, it's now totally wrecked."

"Several parts seem to be broken, but I believe I can fix it." Frank looked thoughtful.

"Good." Vash was relieved. "It's my only defense at the moment."

"Only defense? What happened to your Colt?"

"I... lost it."

"You _lost_ it?" Frank didn't believe his ears. He looked at Vash like he would've looked at a rabid hound dog wearing a pink fluffy collar. "Just like that?"

"Yeah." Vash blushed. He looked down and began to follow the shoelace of his left boot. "I dropped it in the desert. The sands must have buried it already. It's hopeless to try and find it."

Frank only shook his head and continued to examine Vash's weapon arm. "So... Who was this duelling companion of yours?"

"My brother."

"Your brother, eh?" Frank snorted. "No wonder. This is a good shot, precisely aimed to destroy the gun with a single strike. Wouldn't have expected just any guy to succeed in it."

"Yeah." Vash sighed. "Don't want to face him like that again, though. The experience was... exhausting."

Frank went to fetch some tools and some spare parts from his numerous drawers. "What happened to him? You didn't kill him, did you?"

"No." _Although the thought was really fetching, at one point. _"He's still alive. Barely."

"He's badly injured, then?"

"He has fever."

"People just don't die of trifling fevers, boy. Don't look so worried."

Vash was about to say something about Knives not being one of the 'people' Frank was referring to, but remembered to hold his tongue in the last moment. However, Frank's words calmed him down a little. Surely, if people couldn't die of fever, plants couldn't either?

_If_ it was fever...

"Yeah, you must be right, Frank. He'll be just fine."

"Of course I'm right. Here... Just a couple of more adjustments and we're done."

"Splendid. You sure are quick."

Frank seemed pleased, and Vash returned to his ownt thoughts. Knives' weird sickness was still plaguing him. _Why was he sick?_ It wasn't normal. It was nowhere _near_ normal. Another reason for Vash to follow through his plans. He would take Knives back to the Plant Ship. There, he would connect his twin with the mother plant, and Knives would start to heal. There, he would seal them both inside the ship... and begin the construction of their Eden.

World would be a better place when _both_ of them would be gone.

"Well. I'm done." Frank's sudden words interrupted his thoughts. "Come on, now. Let's go outside and test it."

* * *

**...to be continued...**

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry this chapter was so long. I didn't plan to make it that way when I first started it... but, well, strange things happen when writing, sometimes. Also, I'm sorry that Knives was a bit OOC, but hey, he's delirious with some strange disease, we can't expect him to keep his cool _all_ the time, now can we? ... ... Um. Maybe we can. Sorry. I promise he'll be his usual bastard selfwhen he's feeling better again. But hey, maybe you'll forgive me if I tell you there's going to be some cherry poppin' in the very near future? –grins- And, by the by, I'm wondering whether a sequel with someMPREG would be well received? I have never written that sort of thing, but it just came to my mind. -shrugs-

-Lances (livejournal: username 'angryon')


	12. The Fifth Verse

**DISCLAIMER: NONE OF THIS IS MINE. **

**--  
**

**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 12: The Fifth Verse**

**--**

_Where is he? Damn him._

Knives lay on the bed, feeling as sick and powerless as ever. Vash had been gone for _ages_; in fact Knives could hardly remember when he had last seen him, and he was growing totally frustrated. He had nothing better to do but to think about how messed-up, sickly and uncontrollable pandemonium his life had recently become. He didn't seem to be able to collect his thoughts rationally anymore - they were reeling from one thing to another without any logical pattern – and he thought he might be losing his mind, the little that was left of it. He was feeling hot, _unbearably_ hot, and he cursed the existence of the twin suns for the first time in his life.

Milly had shown her face only twice during the past two hours of which Knives was very, very glad. Meryl hadn't shown her face at all, of which Knives was even _more_ glad. He suspected the pair of them had gone out on some inane spider business like shopping which, of course, was just wonderful. Knives namely reckoned there might be a slight chance for them both getting killed by a horde of fat, greedy sandworms if they were out long enough.

Feeling slightly cheered by this thought, Knives pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around the room. True, he was feeling alarmingly dizzy, but that was something he didn't want to think about right now. He drowned a glass of water in one go, feeling instantly better. The water felt good inside his burning body, soothing his burning throat and calming his smoldering stomach. Knives took a deep sigh that hurt his infected lungs a little, and listlessly fell back onto the mattress.

Against anybody else's knowledge, Knives knew _exactly_ what was wrong with him.

Knives had figured it out some half an hour ago when he'd been staring at the dull ceiling. His sickness was _not _an ordinary case of fever, although the symptoms were rather similar. Hah! As if fever could ever catch him! As if _any_ pitiful human illness could ever catch him! Knives sneered at the thought, yet his sneer faded when he thought how much more dangerous this other illness was compared to a trifling spider fever.

Yes... This 'other illness' was something completely different; it was _energy leak._

Knives chewed his bottom lip, contemplating about his current state of health. He'd had this kind of a problem once before, right after Vash had shot him with his angel arm in July. He had nearly died back then, but he'd been eventually saved by Legato Bluesummers, who'd brought him back to his headquarters and connected him with a strong mother plant. Knives shivered at the memory of being reborn. It had been a long and painful process, and he was not willing to experience it ever again.

As if he had any choices left but to die.

The diagnose of an energy leak was very simple: the temperature control system of Knives' body had broken down -a clear consequence from his severe injuries and the difficult blood transfer and long, exhausting car drive- and he was now constantly losing energy. It was coming out of his system in the form of waste heat, and the amount of said heat was plain enormous. In so many words, his body could no longer hold in the energy that was its essence. Meaning, Knives would die.

Probably even soon.

And the burning twin suns were not helping.

* * *

Warrens City, as small as it was, was rather happily situated in the middle of the endless wasteland. It was surrounded by high, sheltering rocks in three different directions and it had as many as _four_ working wells. Vash the Stampede thought about this curiosity as he stood on top of high a cliff, looking down at the bustling town below him. 

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Frank asked him, wiping some sweat out of his eyes. "Although a little too hot."

"Yes... it _is_ hot. It's _always_ hot on this dreadful planet."

Frank made a noncommittal grunt and adjusted his hat. "You got that one right, lad."

Vash sighed and turned to look at the city again. Amidst the dozens of houses, he tried to distinguish the building where they were currently residing, and where his brother was hopefully currently resting. It was only a small dot, but finding and seeing it was not actually a very difficult task since he had an exceptionally good eyesight. He could even distinguish the ugly marshmallow curtains, which made him mildly amused. Knives _hated_ those curtains, and now he would have to watch them all day.

"Shall we take another round?" Frank asked, bustling over to a pile of small rocks he had painted with merry colours.

"Yeah. Whatever."

Vash was annoyed. He had been testing his newly repaired gun for the past two hours, successfully shooting at various targets. He had no problems whatsoever with his shooting, and he really didn't want to waste his time practicing any longer when he had so many other, more _important_ things to think about. But, he wasn't ready to return to the town yet, not ready to face his brother. He needed some fresh air, needed some distance; his mind had been befuddled by Knives' manipulation for too long, and he had finally decided to get his thoughts straight.

He _still _wasn't sure what he should do with his brother.

True, he'd made all sorts of plans. He'd made plans to run away. He'd made plans to build a whole new world for himself and Knives, a world that was wholly unconnected to the rest of the universe. A world that was a half-made _Eden_, even. Yet, despite all the good points he saw in separating the world from his brother, and his brother from the world, Vash wasn't at all so sure he could actually go through with it. Because, well, he was a selfish being just like his twin, and couldn't think of separating _himself_ from the human world.

Idly, Vash aimed his gun towards the newly piled-up rocks. He would have to do a lot more serious thinking during the following days, until he was able to decide their destiny.

Vash groaned as his already non-existent concentration was disturbed by strange movement he saw in the corner of his left eye. Angrily, he swirled around to glare at the distraction and, to his surprise, saw a pair of beautiful white butterflies dancing around each other. Immediately he forgot his annoyance, lowered his gun and stared at them, mesmerized. Their movements were intertwined and seamless, as if one had read the mind of the other, and their velvety wings were occasionally brushing as they made love to each other. Vash squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the wonderful but aching sight.

Butterflies. No matter what was going on in their miniature brains, Vash could only wish his and Knives' thoughts were as connected, as _agreed upon _as theirs.

Fat chance.

"Something's really troubling your mind, isn't it?" Frank clapped Vash on the shoulder. "You've been absent-minded all day."

"No, it's nothing," Vash quickly exhaled and aimed his gun anew towards the rock pile in the distance. "Just the sun tricking my eyes."

Frank looked dubious. "As long as your aim doesn't begin to falter."

Vash sighed, feeling heavy-hearted. "It never really does, does it?"

* * *

Back in town, Knives was wondering about death. It was a strange concept for him, although he'd seen it a lot. 

What would become of the world when he died? Would it become a better place? Would it become the long-expected paradise, the Eden? Maybe Vash would finally help the humans create the Shangri-La everybody seemed to be waiting for? Or maybe he would continue to mix with the spiders, trying to pretend that he wasn't special, that he wasn't immortal and in possession of the gifts of the gods? Knives sighed. He didn't know who had placed such an atrocious notion as _humility _in his brother's head, but his doubts were aimed towards one Rem Saverem.

With great difficulty and pain, Knives forced himself to sit up again. Being angry at dead people was slowly beginning to feel rather pathetic, even if he said so himself. Taking support from the walls, he stood up on his shaking legs and dragged himself slowly towards the window. This was physically even more challenging than what he'd anticipated, but he would be damned if he would let his weakened condition prevent him from seeing his glorious kingdom. After all, for all he knew, it might be the _last_ time he ever saw it. He had no idea how rapidly his body would eventually collapse.

Gritting his teeth, Knives grabbed the windowsill with white knuckles and heaved himself up against it, ignoring the horrid curtains the best way he could –by not looking at them. He leaned his forehead against the rocky frame of the window, gazing out on the street. The sun was downright scorching the sandy ground, the excessive heat causing the air to ripple and waver. The sight was actually beautiful, if a little ordinary, and Knives found himself smiling.

He happily spent the following fifteen minutes by the window, watching the rays of the sun playing with the shadows, making them change their form and location. He felt rather content watching the town's people struggling with their daily affairs, secretly knowing that no matter what they did or how much they worked, they would never be able to create a paradise on their own.

Knives scrunched up his nose when he suddenly saw a drunken man staggering across the marketplace. He could outright _smell_ alcohol, sweat and dirt evaporating from the man, even though there was a good hundred feet separating them. Knives was thoroughly disgusted with the sight. This was _not_ something he wanted as one of his last memories from Planet Gunsmoke. If he indeed was going to die, he only wanted pleasant memories to go with. Like, for example, watching the drunken bastard claw his eyes out in pain. Or, better yet -Knives decided he might just as well get rid of the boozer for good.

Narrowing his eyes, he concentrated on forcing the man's body under his own will, the poor spider never quite knowing what was happening to him. The man grabbed his throat with both of his sweaty hands and began to squeeze with force. Eyes bulged out of his swollen head as the pressure grew and grew, and his face began to turn purplish red as the oxygen no longer streamed into his lungs. He fell down to his knees and tried to cough, but he could do nothing.

Knives sniggered, satisfied with himself. However, his fittingly gruesome plans were rapidly interrupted when his knees failed beneath his weight and he fell on the floor. Gasping for air himself, he had to end his little mind control game with the spider. He could only _hope _he'd done damage enough to kill the god-ugly slosher, but he couldn't be sure since he couldn't muster the strength to try and reach his mind anymore. His palms were sweating, his forehead was so damp with the evaporating heat it was outright glistening, and his entire body was convulsing. With a hurried motion, Knives grabbed the hem of the curtain and wiped his nose in it, soiling it with blood. All of his mucous membrane had gone dry and a vicious nosebleed was just one of the natural consequences of such an occasion. Yet, as natural as it was, it was also a sign that the energy leak had proceeded even further than what he'd originally thought. "Fuck..."

Knives glanced longingly at the can of water that was sitting on the bedside table. The small, nearly molten ice cubes that were happily swimming in the liquid of life would be his saviour angels, at least for the time being, if only he could reach them.

With twice the effort he'd given in order to reach the window, Knives now edged towards the water. He felt miserable and helpless and alone, yet he couldn't imagine anything more horrible than having someone else by his side right now. That is, if that somebody else wasn't Vash, whom he had always wanted beside him. Vash, who had been gone for who knows how many hours and hadn't yet returned.

Knives felt a pang of regret in his heart when he thought about the deep, bottomless pit that had formed between himself and his twin all those miserable decades ago. How could it be possible they were so different in their opinions and wishes, when they even shared the same blood, the same essence of energy? But their differences were there, and they would probably never be solved. Knives couldn't understand Vash's willingness to coexist with the humans, and Vash couldn't understand Knives' burning urge to get rid of the said filth.

And now they had finally reached the turning point where one of them had to give up.

Knives closed his tired eyes and stopped his efforts of movement in order to take a breath. Knowing himself and his brother, he was certain that _neither_ of them was likely to give up. They would both probably continue fighting until the very end. And although he was unwilling to think about it, the facts could not be denied: the end was frighteningly near. If not connected to a strong mother plant soon, Knives would be dead in a matter of days... maybe even hours.

_Dead... I wonder what it feels like to be dead...?_

Knives feared he would probably soon find out.

* * *

"That's your fourth beer, boy," said Frank to Vash. "Be careful not to let it conquer you. I know what kind of a devil the alcohol is. Don't want to be its slave, believe me." 

Vash looked at him but did not smile. "It's _only_ my fourth beer, Frank. I think I'm going to have at least as many more."

Frank, sitting in a chair that was too small for him, looked serious. They'd come back from the cliffs and were now sitting at the local bar, catching up and enjoying some refreshments. However, they'd been there only twenty minutes by now and Vash was quickly making it a new hobby to drown himself in ale. "Alcohol doesn't solve your problems. Do you want to talk about them, or do you want to dwell in misery all by yourself? I'm just saying, you helped me the last time we met. I... I want to repay the kindness."

"Yeah, well, you didn't much talk yourself back then, did you?" Vash shrugged. "I heard your story from someone else."

"That was my mistake. If I would've talked about my problems sooner, things would probably never have gotten out of hand." Frank drew the beer away from Vash. "Don't follow my foolish example."

Vash leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking slightly irritated. "What would you know about my problems? Even if I told you, you probably wouldn't believe me. Spiders are like that. Intellectually retarded, I mean. They just don't understand me."

As if on cue, Frank didn't quite understand what Vash was talking about. "You have a problem with spiders?"

"No, actually I have a problem with butterflies," Vash smiled an ironic smile, taking his beer back. "One particular butterfly, that is. I don't know how to keep it healthy."

"I never knew anyone could keep butterflies as their pets." The barmaid had come to clean her glass beside their table. She was wearing the same green cap Vash remembered from months before. "They don't live long, anyway."

Vash smirked at her. "You'd be surprised."

"So what's your problem with it, exactly? How can you say if a butterfly is ill or healthy?" The barmaid was genuinely interested, Vash realised. "How does one tell the difference?"

"It's easy." Vash shrugged. "Healthy butterflies know how to fly."

"And your pet won't fly anymore?" Frank raised his eyebrows.

"No." Vash agreed.

"Strange, very strange." The barmaid narrowed her eyes, thinking. "What could be the reason for that?"

"Maybe it's because I've plucked its wings out?" Vash asked, pouring more beer down his throat.

The barmaid looked shocked. "How horrible of you!"

"Yeah, I know." Vash looked down at his drink that was golden-brown in colour and slightly bubbling. "Horrible, horrible."

"Why did you do that?" Frank asked. "What did he do?"

Vash flinched and looked up. "W-what?"

"I asked, what did it do? You wouldn't hurt anything or _anyone_ without a reason, would you, Vash?"

"I... I... I think not. I _hope_ not."

"This conversation is getting too much for me to follow," the barmaid said, rolling her eyes. "I'll go back to cleaning the tables."

"Yeah... okay..." Vash waved his hand absent-mindedly, not really hearing what she said. "Whatever."

"I think _you_ should be cleaning some tables, too," Frank said, looking pointedly at Vash. "With your brother."

Vash blinked his eyes, surprised. Maybe the spiders really _weren't_ so stupid, after all. "How... How did you know?"

"It's easy to read your face, mate." Frank smiled. "So... Do you agree with me? Do you think you should go to your brother and speak things through with him?"

"Yeah. I guess that's exactly what I should do." Vash sighed. "It's just that he's so diffic..."

Right then, Vash felt a chill run down his spine. He left his sentence unfinished and stood up, looking alarmed.

"Hey, what is it?" Frank asked, worried.

Vash looked like he'd be ready to throw up. "I... I think my butterfly just learned how to fly without wings."

* * *

Knives shuddered on the floor, huddled in a fetal position, clutching his sides and trying not to cough. He was afraid that if he coughed up some more blood he would lose all his energy and consequently his consciousness. He couldn't move an inch, despite he urgently needed the water that was now only a few feet away, and he didn't even try to hide his frustration. 

_Damn Vash! Where was that punk when once needed?_

At least forty minutes had passed since his collapse and nobody had come to check on him. Maybe the stupid insurance girls really had gone shopping? Knives still wished to hear news from a random sandworm attack that had accidentally claimed a few particular victims. However, his dreams were soon shattered by a knock on the door.

Milly entered the room, unasked, carrying a tray with some sandwiches on it.

Knives cursed. Why did she have to come _now? _He hated weakness more than anything, and now he was showing it in front of a lousy spider. He was embarrassed, he was angry, he was ready to kill. But he did not kill, because he just couldn't muster up the energy. Milly, of course, was shocked to find her patient crawling on the floor, in the middle of a pool of red substance. The tray fell from her fingers and crashed onto the floor, and the girl ran to his aid.

"Oh, heavens! Knives, are you all right?"

Rage fuelled by mortification flashed in Knives' eyes, but he still patiently smiled up at her. "Of course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be?"

Milly swallowed nervously, not knowing what to do with all the blood around her. "Mr. Knives... What's happened? What's wrong with you?"

"I'm..." Knives licked his parched, blood-stained lips, over a feral smile. "...thirsty."

"T-thirsty?" Milly's voice was shaking. Clearly, somewhere in her subconsciousness, she'd realised the situation was more dangerous to her than to Knives.

"Yes, _thirsty."_ Knives looked annoyed. "Throwing up all this amount of blood has made my throat sore."

"O-of course." Blinking her shallow blue eyes, Milly hurried to get the water from the bedside table. Knives grasped the offered mug with all the vigour he could conjure up and drank greedily. He asked a refill until the whole can was empty.

"Feeling any better?" Milly timidly asked.

Knives hung his head and grunted. Yes. He _was_. Not much, though, but he did feel the instant, relieving effect of the cold liquid sliding down his throat. The water satisfied his soul and calmed down his burning body, and he could feel part of his senses returning to him.

Then he made the mistake of breathing.

The spider's awful scent hit his nostrils immediately, irritating him to no end, and he was ready to throw up. She was close; too fucking close. Knives shut his eyes and craned his neck, facing the ceiling. Disgusted, he tried to imagine himself someplace else. Someplace where the spiders couldn't reach him... Couldn't come this close. Somewhere up, somewhere high near the sun... Somewhere where they couldn't spin their sticky, suffocating webs around him...

_No, no, no... Go away... Stay away..._

"Knives? Hey, Knives?"

Milly was shaking him. Milly was squeezing him with her long, abysmal fingers. The fine hair on Knives' bare arms was standing up with immeasurable disgust.

_Don't touch me. Don't... Please don't..._

But Milly couldn't hear his thoughts. Zoning out, Knives felt the familiar tug of liquid metal solidifying underneath his fingertips. He hadn't felt it in the longest time, not in several weeks, _months_, even; but then again he had been far too ill to feel anything but pain recently. Yet now... he could feel it again. The rush of quicksilver in his veins, turning into solid metal. He could feel it... and she was still too fucking close.

"Let's get you back to bed. Come on, let me help you." Milly began to sound worried. "Knives? Do you even hear me? _Hey!_"

She slapped him on the cheek.

Knives cracked his eyes halfway open and just stared at the girl, coldly. "Go away. Right now."

"No! I can't leave you like this."

"I'm warning you..."

"Don't be ridiculous! You're obviously dangerously sick! I must get you back to bed, and then I'll send for Mr. Vash." Milly tried to hoist him over her shoulder in order to move him from the floor.

Knives shivered with repulsion, trying to pull away. "Don't touch me!"

"Here, here. Come now. You're not well, and I must help you. I... Knives?"

Eyes unseeing, Knives finally lost control of his own body as his carnal instincts claimed reign. An empty smile on his lips, he allowed his fingers to turn into a collection of sharp knives from which he'd originally received his name. Shining and deadly, the blades were ready to cut some flesh.

Milly shrieked.

'_So... On the fifth night, those shards strike the face of the earth over and over again...' _

The blades sunk in her face, and a shower of blood covered them both.

* * *

It had been a short run, but it had felt like hundreds of iles. Crashing into the room, Vash found Milly sitting in the corner in hysterics, her face bleeding from several deep scratches. Meryl was also there, trying her best to clean and patch up the wounds with white clothing, although it was almost certain Milly's face would scar. 

Vash felt horrible rage swelling inside of him. "Knives!"

"He's not here!" Meryl snapped. "He went into the bathroom."

Vash didn't wait another second. He stormed out of the room to find his brother, and god damn it he was going to teach him a lesson he would never forget. Slamming the door open and stepping inside the lavatory, Vash's eyes landed on a bloody heap in the shower booth.

"Knives..." Vash spoke very slowly. "What have you done?"

Blue eyes were staring back at him, not a sign of recognition in their depths.

Vash closed the door and knelt before his twin. "Knives, I want you to answer me. What have you done?"

Knives didn't reply; his gaze was hollow and he didn't seem to be fully aware of what was happening around him. Vash took a deep breath and slapped him a few times on the cheek, trying to revive him. He was disgusted to find fresh blood dirtying his hand. However, his efforts were helpful. Ever so slowly, the missing sparkle came back into Knives' eyes, and he came back to the reality with a start.

Knives looked around for a moment, obviously collecting his thoughts and gathering the situation. "What have I done?"

"That's what I'd like to know." Vash hissed, venom oozing from his voice.

"Yes. I think you would." Knives answered with a surprisingly subdued voice. "It wasn't my fault. She came too close."

"You promised me you wouldn't do this!" Vash's voice was quiet, but his eyes expressed all the rage, hurt and disappointment he felt. "I thought I could trust you."

"Trust me? _Trust_ me?" Knives laughed then, dragging his fingers –the knives- along the bathroom wall tiles. Some of them broke. "You didn't trust me in the beginning, not when that trust was the only thing I asked for. So why did you think you could trust me now, when I don't want your trust any longer?"

"Knives, _please..._"

"If you had trusted me back then, none of this would've happened. Things would never have come to this."

"Don't make stupid excuses. We don't live in the past now. The past is gone." To his own horror, Vash realised he tried to assure himself, too, even as he spoke. "The only thing that matters now is the present. And, at present, Milly's face is resembling something a wild tiger has mauled."

Knives coughed up some blood, aiming it straight in his brother's face. "A major improvement."

Vash didn't hesitate to hit him hard on the side of his head with his prosthetic arm. "You're disgusting."

Making pained faces, Knives looked up at his twin. The hit had been really hard, and now even his head was bleeding. "I don't see why you're so upset with me. I didn't kill her or anything."

"You _would _have, if only... if only...!"

"Yes, if only what?" Knives yelled. "There was no-one to stop me. I could've gutted her for all that I care! At least I _tried_ to control myself! Fuck! I'm just saying she shouldn't have come so close! I even told her to leave, but she didn't want to hear me!"

Vash didn't look any less angry. With an internal sigh, Knives reasoned he could probably say any sweet thing that came to his mind and make the cutest of faces, and _still_ he wouldn't be able to give an answer that would satisfy his brother. There simply _was_ no excuse for what he had done. He'd fucked up, as simple as that, and Vash would not forgive him. Not this time.

Knives gasped as Vash's hands abruptly went around his throat and began to choke him. His cranium hit the cold wall tiles and he saw stars in his eyes. Pearls of sweat began to form on his forehead as he realised what was happening. His eyes, already somewhat dilated and feverish, lost their sparkle again as the world began to blur. Vash only tightened his grip around Knives' neck, his hand trembling in his rage.

'_Going to kill me, brother?' _

'_Yeah. I am. After I've choked you, I'll fucking shoot you in the head. Maybe that'll teach you something.'_

'_Sounds interesting.' _Knives closed his eyes, and a small tear rolled down his cheek. '_I've always wanted to know what it feels like to be shot in the head.'_

'_You won't be feeling it anymore when you're already dead by the time I will do it.'_

Knives tried to swallow despite the tightness around his throat, not succeeding. He really hated his life, sometimes. If he had expected to live another day or two, he now knew he had been wrong. Vash's harsh handling had done nothing but worsened his already desolate condition. No matter how much water he'd drunk, it wasn't enough to save him. He opened his eyes again and blearily looked at his brother whose face was hovering just above him. Realising he was in no hurry to anywhere, he took his time and admired the beautiful aquamarine eyes that reflected so many deep feelings. His Vashu... So Beautiful. Knives felt really sad that this would be the last time he would ever see him.

Vash stared Knives right back, not at all impressed with his brother's submissive behaviour. "What do you want, Knives? What is it that you fucking _want?_ Do you want to die? Do you want to live? Do you want to kill the spiders first and _then _die? Do you want _me _to kill you? Is that what you want?"

Knives smiled. '_If you don't know the answer to that question, you sure don't know anything.'_

Vash's palm was beginning to sweat around Knives' throat. "Eden. It's all about your Eden, isn't it? And it always has been. You want your god damn Eden, where all the spiders are gone and only the butterflies are happily flying under the suns. Well guess what! There is only _one_ butterfly who would be willing to live in that kind of a dull world, and that one butterfly is _you_. Nobody would want to be there with you. Nobody wants to be with you even now! Even _I_ do it only because you're my brother! If you were just another member of the Gung-ho Guns, I would leave you in the desert for the wild dogs to ravish and feel no regret."

Knives shivered. So _this_ was the reason why Vash had let him live, why Vash had treated him so humanly this far. _Obligation, _and nothing more. _Responsibility_, and nothing further. Oh, well. Knives squeezed his eyes shut. He truly had been silly to imagine anything otherwise. He had been silly to allow himself some small hope that Vash might actually some day love him back. He had been silly to _dream._ He could see himself now the way Vash was seeing him, and he didn't dare elaborate the image he saw.

"Do you have any idea how much I hate you?" Vash grunted.

'_Yes.'_ Knives thought silently. '_But do you have any idea how much I love you?'_

'_Fuck you and your love!' _Vash's telepathic voice was nearly loud enough to break Knives' brain cells_. 'It's nothing but a sick game. I detest you. You make me sick.'_

Knives smiled, new tears rapidly filling his eyes. He was in so much pain. He tried to swallow again but couldn't, since Vash's grip was tight. Frowning with the effort, he forced his blade-like fingers turn back to normal. He had drained nearly all of his powers in the struggle by now, and felt the faintness rapidly descending on him. It was a welcome feeling, actually; calm and euphoric. Irresistible. He could outright _feel_ the energy pouring out of him, and he even thought he could see the air around his body rippling with it.

Finally giving up, Knives went limp in Vash's arms.

Vash recoiled then, as if waking up from some kind of a dream, and released his vice-like grip from Knives' throat as if the touch had burned him. He looked down at his twin with large, anxious eyes, gathering him in his arms, shaking him. "Knives...? Hey, Knives?"

But Knives could only barely understand what was happening around him. He lay completely listless in his brother's arms, his lungs slowly trying to take in oxygen again. His entire body felt like being in flames. He knew the end was near, _very_ near, and he knew there was no Legato saving him this time. There was _nobody_ who could save him this time. Because, well... Nobody wanted to. And even if they did... The nearest mother plant was hundreds of iles away.

Knives realised it now: he was living his last moments. He opened his bleary eyes one last time and looked at his brother, memorizing the beautiful face, smiling a sad smile.

"What's happening to you, Knives?" Vash was panicking. "Oh, god, why are you so weak? I didn't mean to hurt you this much! I was just so angry! I didn't mean..."

'_Hush, now.'_ Knives closed and opened his eyes slowly. '_Everything's going to be alright.'_

"What? What are you saying?"

With his last powers, Knives laced their fingers together and tried to sigh. '_I'm saying that everything... is going to be just... alright.'_

After that, Knives didn't feel anything any longer. He supposed Vash was shaking him, but he couldn't be sure; and he supposed Vash was calling his name, too, but all the voices were almost inaudible in his dying ears. He felt peaceful and calm again... and he didn't want to kill anyone, anymore. He didn't even want to kill the spiders, anymore. He was tired...

...and he just wanted to let go.

--

**...To Be Continued...**

**-- **

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* * *

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A/N: Um, okay, sorry it took so long to update. Sorry if the chapter sucked. Sorry I'm ever fucking born. Flames are welcome.


	13. Through Your Skin

**DISCLAIMER: NONE OF THIS IS MINE. BLAME NIGHTOW FOR CREATING TRIGUN'S WONDERFUL WORLD.**

**WARNINGS: YAOI, TWINCEST AND EVERY OTHER UGLY THING. AND –OMG- LOVE!**

**--**

**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 13: Through Your Skin**

**-- **

"Knives...? Knives! Oh, _god, _KNIVES!"

The mental link between them dissipated so fast it _hurt_, and Vash cried out in pain. He watched with bottomless horror as Knives' platinum hair began to turn black from the roots.

"No..." Vash's lips trembled. "Please don't do this to me!"

A lone tear ran down Knives' pale cheek, slithering down along his jawline, finally dropping on Vash's shaking hand that was holding him. As if waking up from a trance, Vash cradled his brother tighter in his arms and pressed his limp body close to his chest. He began to rock back and forth, whispering sweet nothings into Knives' sweat-damp hair, pleading and praying, until he was crying so hard he couldn't get any words out.

But Knives didn't hear him. Knives simply _wasn't there, _anymore.

_'Knvives, come on... You can't die. You're immortal. Stop playing this stupid fucking game with me and open your eyes.' _

Vash gathered all his strength and tried to reach Knives through their mental link, but no matter how hard he pushed in, he couldn't feel even the faintest outline of his brother's thoughts. He trailed his blood-stained fingers across Knives' face, trying to figure out what to do, his brain totally unwilling to cooperate. A cold, empty spot began to form in his chest as he realised Knives truly wasn't going to open his eyes, anymore.

"Fuck..."

Frantically, Vash began to place burning kisses all across his brother's face, feeling the precious moments slipping away. He felt helpless, he felt alone, and he felt more than a little bit hysterical. His mind quickly flickered back to Milly's mauled face, and he grimaced. He should've known better than to leave Knives alone with the girls. After all, Knives was seriously injured, and it was only natural of every hurt animal – or plant – to lash out in order to keep anyone from touching them. And he had known from the look in Milly's eyes that, in Vash's absence, she would be trying to get closer to his brother. He'd seen the brave glimmer in those pale blue irises; a glimmer that verged on masochistic if not even suicidal. But he'd ignored it. Like he'd ignored so many things he shouldn't have, recently.

He really had no-one else to blame for this mess but himself.

Vash looked down at his beloved twin and gently lowered his head to brush his lips against his brother's mouth. _Knives couldn't leave him like this! _Knives was the only one who had ever understood him. He was the only one who knew what it felt like to be born a plant instead of a human - what it felt like to be hated and scorned - what it felt like to receive kicks and blows just for being _different_. It was Knives' relentless hatred and power towards the spiders that had always been the driving force behind Vash's every action; it was through Knives' evil deeds Vash had finally found his own place in this world.

Vash shuddered as the reality hit him hard. All his life, he'd been reaching for something he could never obtain: a life of an ordinary man. But he now realised he could never be ordinary, and he could never be a _man_. He would always be something else. Something... _more_.

Collapsing under the pressure of his guilt, Vash wept into his brother's hot neck. He wept for the fading memories of their childhood, knowing he should try to cherish them; because if Knives was to die in his arms tonight, there would be no memories of him in the future. With growing despair, Vash wordlessly screamed for help. He wished that someone, _anyone, _could hear him and come to his aid. He wished for a miracle – for a divine interference – because he knew nothing less would be enough.

'_Divine beings don't exist in our world, my love.' _

Vash's eyes shot open and he looked around the small bathroom, alarmed. Someone had clearly spoken to him, yet there was no-one in there but the two of them.

'_You can't stop the tide. The world is changing.' _

Vash realised there was a faint, almost whisper-like female voice echoing inside of his head; a mental link created between him and soneone else than Knives. Vash felt both horrified and relieved at the same time. He hadn't talked to anyone except Legato Bluesummers and his brother in this intimate way, but now... The voice was soft, like a rustle of velvety leaves of a lush tree; calming and soothing.

"What the...?"

'_Open your eyes, love. Look around you, and you will find the answers you are searching for.__'_

Not questioning the voice's advice, Vash looked up. With sudden, almost frightening clarity, he realised anew that they were in a bathroom_. Why? _There had to be a reason why Knives had dragged himself in here and not stayed in the bedroom. Knives never did anything without a reason, except killing spiders. Vash glanced upwards and saw the shower looming just above them.

"Shower... Cold shower... And Knives is burning..."

Without thinking twice, Vash carefully laid his brother down on the floor and stood up. Then he fumbled with the tap for a moment, until he managed to release a spray of cold water. Then he sat down, gathered Knives in his arms again and began to run the water down his brother's scorching body, hoping against all hope he was doing the right thing.

"Come on now, you stupid punk!" Vash muttered, his voice silent and worried. "Feels good, right? Tell me it feels good."

He propped Knives firmly up against himself so that he could use his both hands. He smoothed Knives' bare chest and arms, ghosting his fingers over the bandages wrapped around his firm body. They were all wet now, staining the water pink where it swirled into the small drain. Vash moved to shower Knives' hair and neck, watching carefully if he got any reaction out of his twin. But Knives didn't even _flinch _when the cold touched his skin. He just lay still. Completely still.

Vash cried hard, his tears mixing with the water. He couldn't believe he'd allowed this to happen. Every fatal mistake he'd made during the past few hours soared through his mind. He should never have left Knives alone with strangers, knowing how easily agitated his brother could get. He should never have met Frank Marlon. What the hell did he need a gun for? It's not like he was going to shoot his brother in the head for real, was it? If only he'd stayed here, right next to Knives when he needed him, none of this would have happened. Milly's face would still be as pretty as always, and Knives wouldn't be dying right now.

Knives, his only brother. His only family.

'_Oh, how he needed you... And you turned away his love.'_

The voice was back again, now sounding very sad. Vash moaned, new tears spilling from his eyes, and nuzzled his nose into his brother's wet, blood-stained, blackened hair. '_No...'_

'_He needed you like the shadows need the suns to exist. But you weren't shining enough... Your heart was clouded... You refused him.'_

'_That's not true! I didn't refuse him!' _Vash squeezed Knives' body so hard it would've probably hurt his twin, had the other man been aware of the pain. '_I was just... I don't know... confused!'_

'_Your insecurities might have cost him his life, my love. He's growing weaker as we speak.' _

Vash sobbed hard, noticing there were hardly any silvery-blond streaks left in his brother's hair. '_Please... no...'_

'_If death comes to him tonight, brother... Make sure he knows that you cared for him.' _The voice suddenly turned weaker, as if a winter's breeze would have brushed over a blooming meadow flower and made it lower its head. '_Make sure he knows that you loved him... because nobody else ever did.'_

Vash realised he couldn't see anymore because his eyes were so completely filled with tears. '_Yes... I would tell him that I love him... But he can't hear me anymore... He's not here anymore...'_

'_So the dawn will be crimson.'_

'_W-who are you, anyway?'_

'_Look inside your heart, Vash the Stampede, and I'll look inside mine.'_

Shaking his head, Vash closed his eyes and decided – for once – to be rational. How many Legato-clones Knives could have actually made? As far as Vash knew, he only missed _one _arm. '_You... You must be one of my sisters.'_

'_Yes,' _the voice sounded breathless. '_We are connected. Through our mothers, we are one.'_

Blood and energy both raced in Vash's veins faster than an overheated sand steamer. '_Through our mothers...'_

'_So... On the sixth night, those signals bring travellers together...'_

Eyes burning, Vash listened to the silent song and stared at the ugly toilet seat in front of him. A spark so dim that it might've been the last flicker of a small candle sprung to life in his heart. He finally realised what he had to do.

* * *

Breath hitching, hair falling messily over his eyes, his clothes soaked with water and gore, Vash ran towards the Western Plant of Warrens City. The afternoon was slowly making way for the evening, pushing the twin suns lower and lower into the horizon. The villagers turned to give curious looks at the Humanoid Typhoon as he went past running, carrying his half-naked, blood-stained brother over his shoulder. But Vash ignored the strange looks he was getting. It wasn't the first time he'd received them, and probably wouldn't be the last. His only concern at the moment was to get Knives connected with the Western Plant –or more specifically, with his sister. 

Vash had no idea know how he'd managed to connect his mind with hers, but he didn't complain. True, he had talked to his sisters before, only the conversations had been entirely one-sided. Vash had always been able to connect himself to his sisters at some level, to be able to feel what they were feeling; but he'd never imagined he could be able to interact with them on a personal level like this.

Panting heavily from the effort of carrying his brother, he turned one corner after another and jogged on. For the second time within a month, he realised how heavy his brother's listless body could feel in his arms. He was already sweating, although he'd only been running less than ten minutes. And when he finally got the plant in sight, he groaned: he'd forgotten how high and massive the Western Plant actually was.

"You better recover, do you hear me, Knives?" Vash huffed as he elbowed in the heavy iron door that guarded the dark and steep staircase of the plant. "I'm going to hold you responsible if I get a seizure while running up those damnable stairs with your heavy ass on my shoulder!"

Three minutes and some later, Vash reached the top where the bulb was connected to the high, arched base. The slowly darkening sky seemed to be very close up here, almost like at the top of the surrounding mountains, but the air felt weirdly oppressive. Vash was exhausted, both by the physical excercise and the constant fear for his brother, and there were black dots swimming in his vision. He gently laid Knives down and fell on his knees, panting heavily.

However, there was no time to be wasted.

'_Sister, can you hear me? Are you still there?'_

'_I am here, love... Waiting... Like the morning dew waits in silence... dreading the inevitable... dreading the dawn...'_

'_Don't be such a drama queen. You've never even seen morning dew.'_

'_You are so crude...'_

'_Quit wasting time and get ready to heal him.'_

'_I am not as strong as Mother. I can't make you any promises.'_

'_You don't have to.' _Vash pushed some of his golden locks away from his eyes as he began to screw open the bolts of the steely hatch that led straight to the inner parts of the bulb. '_Knives already made me all the promises I need.'_

Bright light struck his face as he pushed the hatch aside, and with it, some of his sister's strong energy seeped through his skin and into his veins like a highly infectuous fever. Feeling his strenght rapidly returning by this energy assault, Vash followed his sister's instructions and carefully lowered Knives down from the hatch, letting him sink under the surface of the strange, electric liquid, the colour of which was a mixture of light blue and pale pink. Surprisingly, Knives seemed to be able to breathe in it - which, hoewever, was only a light comfort considering the whole situation.

With difficulty based on half-hearted unwillingness, Vash let go of Knives' hand and let his sister fully embrace him. '_Please don't hurt him.'_

'_No-one can hurt him like you can, Vash... But I'll be gentle.'_

Silently, Vash watched how the ethereal woman pulled Knives' back flush against her bare chest, wrapping her slender legs around his waist. The pair seemed to float in the centre of the shimmering bulb, seemingly weightless, and Vash idly wondered what it would feel like to join them down there. However, when she roughly bent Knives down and plunged her fingers through Knives' pale, wounded skin right under the shoulderblades, thrusting her hands deep inside his body, Vash decided it was best to stay the hell out of the bulb. Knives went rigid, then spasmed, and then began to glow.

Grimacing with compassion for his brother, Vash closed his tear-swollen eyes, relaxing on the edge of the electric pool. '_You know, sister, he makes me feel so confused.' _He reached down to the heavily charged liquid with his metallic arm, reloading his own energy supplies as he was conversing. '_But I... I think I can understand him now. Somehow. In a twisted, very disturbed sort of way. He... He was hurt. He's traumatized. I should forgive him everything he's ever done.'_

'_You already have, my love.'_

'_Yeah... Except there's still the issue of the spiders...' _Vash didn't know when he'd started to refer to the humans as spiders like his twin, but it seemed now irrelevant. '_He will always hate them. He thinks they're the lowest dirt of the universe, waiting to be wiped out. And I can't agree with him on that. It would be just too cruel to kill them all.'_

'_Then do not kill. Rather, command.'_

Vash sighed deeply. '_That won't do. Knives wants to get rid of them entirely.'_

'_Knives is afraid of them.'_

'_He will try to destroy them again, as soon as he gets well. And I will try to stop him again. It goes on and on... forever...' _Vash felt his chest grow heavy with sorrow. '_It will never end.'_

'_He's immersed his body in the river of vengeance.'_ Sister trailed her nose down Knives' ash pale cheek, allowing his head to rest against her soft bosom. '_You must show him that you love him. Then he will fear no more. Together, you can face the darkest of times and remain whole.'_

Vash opened his eyes, a melancholy smile playing on his lips. '_I wish I could see that happening.'_

'_Be sure to make the right choices when the time comes.__'_ Sister looked up at him then, with alien eyes that were just as aquamarine green as his own, but they were so bright with inner light that it hurt to encounter their gaze. '_All the chilly nights and tomorrow hold no meaning if you fight forever, neither gaining victory. You only have each other now, Vash.'_

Sister suddenly swirled Knives around in her arms, so that her fingers could be seen through the skin where Knives's hips were. Then she bent down and kissed him fiercely on the mouth. Vash watched, mesmerised, as his brother slowly began to respond to that kiss, soft sparkles of shared energy floating around them both. Horrified to find out his pants were getting tight at the sight, Vash tried to look away... but couldn't.

"Shit..."

Sister laughed and suddenly pulled her hands out of Knives' spasming body, releasing him.

'_He's all yours now, Vash... And it's time for me to say goodbye.'_

Vash covered his eyes against the blinding light that burst out of the hatch, ostensibly forcing its way through every cell of his body. And then, just as unexpectedly, everything went dark. Lights went out everywhere around him; the entire city went black. The only source of illumination was the faint sunlight that was still trying to crawl up from the horizon, casting a flaming hue over the sand-coloured rooftops, painting the sky with an ominous red.

"V-Vash..."

Chills running down his spine, Vash looked down.

Knives was lying at the bottom of the empty bulb, alone and naked, shivering with cold and rampant energy... his bright, platinum hair spread out in the shape of an angelic halo around his head.

--

**...To Be Continued... **

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**A/N: Thank LJ-user "****id0ntkn0wwh0iam"** **for this update. Kicked my ass. Smut (as far as this site allows) in the next chapter. Yay. **


	14. Consummation

DISCLAIMER: NONE OF THIS IS MINE. BLAME NIGHTOW FOR CREATING TRIGUN'S WONDERFUL WORLD.

WARNINGS: YAOI, TWINCEST and, in this chapter, also some sort of SEXUAL INTERCOURSE.

* * *

**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 14: Consummation**

--

The scent of old leather and rusting metal was repellent to his senses, but there was no avoiding it. In the shadowy, dust-coated control room of the Warrens City Western Plant, Vash the Stampede somewhat reluctantly laid his naked, shivering brother down onto a dirty couch and went to search for something that could be used as clothes. If anything, he didn't want Knives to be cold anymore.

As if possessed by some maniacal spirit, Vash frantically looked around, swiftly opening a few lockers that weren't even locked - and also some that were. He was making a complete mess of the place, which was saying something, since it wasnt very clean to begin with - but he found nothing for his brother to wear, no matter where he looked. Cursing, he stormed back and forth in the small room, trying to figure out what to do, with little to no success.

He soon realized he was only wasting time. Giving up his useless frolicking, he went to kneel beside Knives, pressing his heated lips to his twin's clammy forehead.

_'Can you hear me, bro?'_

Seconds ticked by in silence while Vash looked hopefully down at the closed eyelids. The eyes were restless behind them, but Knives didn't seem to be fully awake yet. But that didn't really matter. Vash could tell his brother was completely healed now. He could feel the electricity pulsing strong in Knives' nerves system, could feel the rising level of their mental connection despite Knives' sleep. That made him both happy and a little bit sad. Happy because he'd gotten his brother back - and sad because he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep him.

Knives was now a powerful, dangerous man again. Maybe even more powerful than Vash, considering he'd just received a full blast of fresh, divine plant energy from their sister. If Vash couldn't somehow restrain him, who knew what might happen. But how was he supposed to do that? How could he control his brother now, when he hadn't been able to do it before? There had to be a way, there had to be something he could do - and he'd better figure out what it was before those beautiful, cerulean eyes would open once again.

Vash covered his face with a tired hand. He thought about Knives' numerous crimes, both past and recent, and heaved a long sigh. Those vile, abominable acts had been absolutely inexcusable before - but now, Vash thought differently. Even if he couldnt entirely forget them, he still somehow considered them forgiven. Not even the image of Milly's bloodied face could make him hate his brother in this surreal moment in time; all that had happened was like a distant dream, a nightmare that plagued him but didn't have any real effect on him. It was like his mind was converting reality into a hallucination so he wouldnt have to believe it, even when he knew it was all true. It was real, it had happened, and Knives was responsible for it - but Vash still couldn't turn his mind, or his heart, against his brother.

Something had changed - something within him. Like magic, he had turned practically blind to his brother's faults and had begun to see his own, unforgivable ignorance more clearly instead. On a certain level he was afraid of this change - it made him feel that _he _had been the guilty party all along instead of his brother - but he still didn't want to do anything about it. It was just like their sister had predicted: he couldn't stop the tide. The whole world was changing - and he was changing with it.

_'Make sure he knows that you loved him... because nobody else ever did.' _

Vash returned his attention to Knives. He took in every change in his twin's demeanor, every calm and irregular breath he inhaled, every twitch of his eyebrows, every movement of the eyes under the closed lids. Yes, he loved his brother - he always had. Momentarily (if one could call 120 years momentarily) he had allowed his mind to be clouded with anger and hatred - feelings that had nearly made him forget this axiomatic fact - but now he was back to being honest again. Honest with himself.

He had never hated Knives.

Smiling a little, Vash reached out a gentle hand and brushed some platinum locks away from Knives' temples. Hatred... that feeling had never really existed, had it? Not in the way he had once believed. True, he had hated his brother's ideology, his actions, his choices, his way of life – but he hadn't hated _him_. Through sadness, depression and anger, he had hated everything Knives had presented – but never, ever _him_.

If Knives had somehow died by some accident or by someone else's hand in the past, Vash knew he would have been completely devastated. Because Knives was _his_ to kill, damn it, his to eradicate if he so chose. Knives was his to hate, his to own, his to love, his to forgive – his, and only his, down to the very last thread of energy in his beautiful, naked and shivering body. From the moment they had inhaled the same amniotic fluid in their mother-plant's womb, Vash had claimed his twin. Knives was his other half, his other embodiment, a natural extension of himself. Knives was a part of him. A part he had once lost and not immediately wanted back – but a part he hadn't been able to live without, after all.

As if hearing his thoughts, Knives let out a shuddering breath and frowned in his sleep. Vash perked up immediately and his face lit up with excitement. He took his brother's cold hand and pressed it against his chest.

"Knives?"

There was no response. Despite the anxious frown, it was clear Knives' mind was still in the land of its own. Vash sighed dejectedly and examined Knives' fingers, touching each fingertip in turn. The nails seemed to have a bluish tint to them. Hell, he needed to find him something to wear – and not only because he was cold. They didn't have much time, anyway. The sudden, complete black-out of the city would certainly gather masses of confused and curious people around the plant, which meant they would sooner or later have some company. And if his rabidly aracnophobic twin found himself _butt naked _in front of these _spiders_ he so much abhorred...

Images of a bloody carnage flashed through Vash's mind. Knives would feel totally defenseless, and then he would totally freak out. And since he happened to have millions of liquid, uncontrollable blades in his veins, the mess would be just terrible.

_...but he is just afraid of them. Somewhere deep, deep down..._

Vash contemplated his sister's words and shook his head. He couldn't help feeling a little contradicted by the idea of someone like Knives being actually afraid of, well, _anything_, really. He let go of Knives' hand, leaned back and let his eyes roam over brother's body. There were no scars visible anywhere on the perfectly smooth skin. Nor had there ever been, if not counted the injuries Vash had personally inflicted on him a while ago, shooting holes through his shoulders and thighs. But even _those _marks had now faded, thanks to their sister's omnipotent care. It made Vash a little sad. He would have liked to leave his mark on Knives. He would have liked to make Knives always remember the outcome of their battle.

"We can co-exist with them, you know," he murmured, sliding his hand up and down Knives' thigh. "The spiders, I mean. Regardless of what... what happened in the past. Regardless of what happened on SEEDS."

Vash shuddered._ SEEDS. _It sounded like a curse word in his ears. There was probably nothing that could ever wipe out _those _memories from his and his brother's mind. They were engraved so deep in their nerves system that they had practically become a dominative gene controlling their individual behavior. That was exactly what made the difference of character between the twins today: the way they perceived their past. Where Vash remembered Rem and her teachings, Knives remembered Steve and his beatings. Where Vash remembered being loved by someone, Knives remembered being hated by everyone. It was sad, really, the way one of them cherished the good memories, and the other one couldn't get rid of the bad ones. And now... according to their traumatically constructed inherent characters, Vash the Stampede always wished for love and peace – and Millions Knives wished for the end of human kind.

_'Oh, how he needed you... And you turned away his love.' _

Vash wanted to protest against his sister's words, but couldn't. He really _had _abandoned Knives, hadn't he? At a time when Knives had needed him the most, he had turned his back on him. True, Knives had been totally mad back then - on the day he'd first introduced him to their Angel Arms - but it hadn't entirely been his own fault, had it? It wasn't _Knives'_ fault he'd turned up as crazy as he had.

It was Vash's fault.

Vash's, and no-one else's.

Vash had always been the stronger one of them, the one with greater balance of mind. If only Vash had realized his brother's reclining mental condition sooner, if only he hadn't been so completely obsessed with Rem and pushed Knives away, if only he'd paid attention to what Knives was thinking and saying instead of letting him make all those insane conclusions about humans and spiders all alone...

If only he'd _paid attention_, none of these things might have happened. None of these horrible, horrible things of the past 120 years.

"I'm so sorry, Knives," hewhispered, gently sweeping a wild strand of silken hair out of his brother's eyes. "I'm sorry I neglected you."

As if hearing his apology, Knives let out an unconscious moan, making Vash wonder exactly _how _aware his brother was or wasn't. He tried the mental connection between them again, but found no response. It seemed like Knives was in some sort of semi-awakened state, being held back by some strange inner power that maybe wanted to prevent him from crashing back into reality too fast. Which was probably a very good thing.

With some difficulty, Vash stood up. His legs had begun to go numb while kneeling on the concrete floor and he cursed himself for spacing out for so long. He stretched his aching limbs and straightened his back. Then he saw Knives shivering again, and remembered his original concern - namely finding some clothes for his twin, and fast. An idea came to him as he looked around, taking support from the couch's backrest. He couldn't help an amused chuckle because the idea was probably even crazier than all of those people Knives had mind-fucked put together.

Walking around the couch, Vash smoothly released the knife hidden in his right boot and used it to peel a large slice of leather off the furniture's back. It was black and surprisingly soft, and relatively clean too, since it hadn't been exposed to any kind of usage during the long years it had been, well, just _hanging_ there. With his moderate sewing skills, Vash shaped it into a snug leather kilt for Knives to wear, held together by some easily moldable pieces of copper wire he found lying around. Granted, it wouldn't give Knives much warmth; but at least it would give him cover and comfort in case they were seen by someone.

Feeling proud of himself, Vash went back to his twin and fastened the leather around Knives' narrow hips, blushing a little when his hands came in contact with the bare skin. He pulled back to admire his work - and instantly felt a weird throbbing sensation in his loins. He refused to think about what that meant, even though he already knew.

"Ah, um..." he cleared his throat, cheeks flushed despite his efforts to stay calm. "Listen, bro... I'm gonna check the situation outside. If it looks bad, we must leave as soon as we can. And I really don't wanna carry you again, so you'd better wake up sometime soon. You're damn heavy."

Adjusting his trousers with a small, wicked grin, Vash exited the control room. If he had needed some proof that he could love his brother also in the physical, more carnal sense of the word, he now knew there wasn't going to be any problem. Knives was damn attractive, especially now when his wounds had been healed and his skin was dimly shimmering like fresh snow with all that exorbitant power still charged inside of him. If everything went well, Vash would soon get to enjoy a completely new kind of relationship with this beautiful creature.

That is... _if _everything went well.

Nobody ever really knew when it came to Knives.

Leaving his brother's side for a while, Vash skipped up a flight of stairs to a nearby balcony to see if there was any kind of commotion outside yet. To his relief, there wasn't. Everything was calm and quiet, except for some odd crickets chirping in the endless shadows. The night had finally fallen, velvety and considerably dark, which meant most of the citizens were already asleep - or too drunk to either notice or care that one of their three sources of electricity had suddenly just _vanished,_ blackening out also the other two plants.

Vash shook his head. Looking up at the stars, he filled his lungs with the cool, refreshing air before going back inside to be with his brother. Even if Warrens City was alarmingly slow to wake up to a possible catastrophe, it didn't mean he and Knives had the entire night to idle away. This peaceful moment wouldn't last forever, and he needed to get Knives back to his senses before it would become too troublesome.

Back in the control room, Knives was still lying on the couch, not yet cured from his comatose-like state. He was fidgeting and breathing calmly in turn, looking strangely agitated and stable at the same time. Wondering how everything would finally turn out for them, Vash pushed Knives' legs aside, sat down on the couch and leaned over his twin.

"Hey..." he muttered, and couldn't help reaching out and touching Knives' face. "It's time for you to come back to me."

There was a small disturbance in Knives' breathing, and Vash felt oddly encouraged. Slowly, but not entirely without hesitation, he ran his fingers down his brother's high cheek. Then he felt the sharp angle of his jaw, the hotness of his pulsating neck – and finally the hard collarbones underneath his soft skin. Bewitched by the fascinatingly beautiful sight, he leaned down and experimentally kissed the tender flesh right under the chin.

In response to this, Knives wailed out a soft whimper.

"Oh?" Vash smiled. "You like that, don't you?"

Knives didn't actually reply, but his breathing had become more excited.

Somehow satisfied with this outcome, Vash continued his attentive ministrations. First, he gently nibbled Knives' upturned chin – and then he slowly made his way to kiss and lick his twin's neck, his collar bones and also the very special, sensitive spot between them. This time Knives moaned, rather loudly even, and tilted his head back as if wanting some more.

Vash was a bit taken aback. Would it truly be this easy to please his brother? To love his brother? ...to_ control _his brother? A lone tear-drop ran down Knives' cheek, and he smiled.

Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to keep his brother after all.

* * *

Inhaling needles, smoldering needles that charred his lungs and tore apart his insides, Millions Knives slowly opened his eyes and saw nothing but deep brightness. His eyes hurt watching it, the dance of pure white and brilliant silver, the colors of the place he'd sometimes heard spiders call Heaven.

Instantly disgusted with the idea, Knives decided he couldn't be anywhere near Heaven for two apparent reasons: first because he was a bad-ass serial killer with a personal problem with God, and secondly because the brightness really hurt like he'd been sent straight to Hell.

First, he figured he must have finally died – an interesting experience in itself – but then he felt something smooth and cold ghosting over his cheek. He jolted up in shock and surprise. It was as if he'd been kissed by a spirit – the touch had been so loving, so silky, like the feathers of his angel arm, and so very soothing – and also so very real.

Knives didn't believe in spirits. Nor did he believe in ghosts or phantoms. Whatever they even were.

With swiftness that surpassed the speed of any mortal creature, he moved to catch the source of that mystifying, teasing touch, only to find his fingers closing over hard, cold metal. His breath hitched, and the allegorical needles he was breathing charged straight into the core of his lungs and made him cough painfully. It felt like someone was rasping his throat with sandpaper.

_'V-Vash...?'_

His mouth opened and tried to form the words, but it was his mind that finally conveyed them. He realized he couldn't speak. Violently clearing his throat, Knives tried to pronounce his brother's name once again, but still couldn't. Fuck. And since he wasn't even able to see anything – anything except that annoyingly heavenly whiteness and light – he let out a frustrated growl. Only it wasn't a growl, but hardly even a proper whimper.

A small amount of fear kicked in. Fingers shaking, he held on tight to what he thought - no, _hoped_ - was his brother's cybernetic arm. Because, if this truly was his brother's arm, he would never let go of it. He would never let go of _him_. No. Never again. No matter how much Vash would hate him for it.

"Hey... calm down, bro. Just take a deep breath and calm down." The feathery touch on his cheek was back. "Everything's okay."

Knives let out a shallow breath, eyes unseeing yet wide with disbelief. Vash was really here, talking to him, touching him, reassuring him. It could not be real, but still... somehow, he was unwilling to believe it was just another pathetic dream of his. Swallowing in attempt to ease the pain in his throat, Knives reached out with his free hand – the other never letting go of the prosthetic arm – and felt the body that was leaning so close over him.

The scars were there. The grill on his chest, the bolts, the broken flesh. Knives stroked the marred skin, fingers adoring every single millimeter they touched. Vash was really here.

He halted his exploration when he felt a hand sliding up his thigh. Only now Knives realized he was wearing something strange, something that felt like a relatively short skirt, only heavier. Where was he? Why was he here? Why was he almost naked in front of his brother, feeling as if his body would melt any second? And why was Vash touching him so lovingly?

Knives closed his eyes. Everything hurt, _everything_, and he was so damn confused he wasn't sure if he still had a functional brain in his head or not. If this was real, Vash would never be this unreserved with him. If this was real, Vash would never respond to his touch with one of his own. No. Not like this.

_'Am I alive?' _he finally asked, squeezing the metal beneath his fingers with growing agitation.

Vash's travelling hand reached his hip and remained there, squeezed tight between the waist of his strange garment and his itching, over-sensitive skin. "Of course you are, idiot."

_'__...well, I had to ask because I don't really feel like it.' _

"I guess. But, you know, the pain just proves that you are. Alive, I mean."

"...it does?"

"Knives... I would never have let you die."

_'__Last time I checked, you wished me dead.'_

"W-well..." Vash mumbled, sounding a bit awkward. "I changed my mind."

_'Obviously.' _

"I realized life's not half as interesting if you're not around."

Knives could only... well, not stare, since he was blind. But he remained motionless in a way that suggested he _might _have stared, if he had been able to. '_Vash._ _There's no chance in hell you'd ever think of me as an interesting addition to your life.' _

"Who knows?" His brother let out a nervous laugh, shifting on the couch. "I might."

Knives snorted and firmly opened and closed his aching eyes for two or three times. He wanted scratch them out. They were stinging like nettle burns and leaking out some odd fluid. _'Moron.' _

A few moments passed by in silence, during which Knives tried to assess the situation. It appeared that he really _was _alive, despite his hurting body and his questionable mental condition. But, no... that wasn't quite right. Actually he was _more _than alive; he felt every single cell of his body emitting strong, unadulterated energy that surpassed both life and death and he felt... _immortal _again. Immortal and invincible. And that was a good thing. Definitely. Probably. Maybe.

"Is it very bad?" Vash broke the reign of taciturnity. "The pain?"

Knives felt a warm hand on his shoulder, near the nape of his neck. Suddenly anxious again, he took in a ragged breath and held it. _'...well, yeah.' _

"I'm really sorry. But I promise you, it won't last long. It's... It's just the after-effects of..."

_'Too much love.' _Knives let the air run out of his aching lungs._ 'I know, Vash. I know.'_

Sighing, Vash began to play with Knives' hair, his fingers looping some of the overgrown strands behind his ear. Fidgeting in growing unease, Knives tried to ignore the teasing touch, tried to ignore the warm breaths fondling his chin and neck, tried to gather his thoughts so he could become a bit more levelheaded again. He turned his face away, wanting to elude his brother's presence for now.

Against common presumptions (and certainly against the results he might've gotten from a psychiatrist had he ever gone to see one) Millions Knives wasn't stupid. In fact, he was quite the opposite, even frighteningly intelligent. And that is why he knew exactly what was going on at the moment. It was glaringly obvious to him what Vash had done in order to save his life. He could feel it in his veins, the excessive energy running wild within him, seeping into his every cell, trying to find a way to get out; violent, rampant energy caressing him, making love to him, torturing him – arbitrarily repairing everything that had once been broken.

Well, _almost_ everything. There was one particular, very special organ that would forever remain injured. There, the wounds were too deep ever to be healed.

_'Why did you let her do this, Vash? Why did you let her sacrifice herself?' _Knives asked, feeling somehow dejected._  
_

Vash's reply was calm and soft, somehow reassuring. '_Because I didn't want to lose you.'_

_'What kind of a reason is that?'_

_'A very good one. I think.'_

_'No, Vash. A bad one. A very bad one. Do you even understand the severity, the weight of what you've done?' _

_'Of course I do.'_

_'No, you don't. And, all things considered, neither did she. Fuck! This is by far the most idiotic thing you have ever done.' _

Vash's fingers continued to play with his hair. Knives was angry. This wasn't what he had wanted. No, not this. Not all this pain and confusion. Not all these excruciating feelings of hopeless love, these torturous feelings he knew he could never get rid of, no matter how long or hard he tried. He had been ready to die, damn it, and Vash had ruined everything. Couldn't his brother see that he didn't want to be alive, not in this world where nothing had changed?

Frustration and fury growled in the pit of his stomach. He was just about to lash out and kick Vash off the couch, beat him to a bloody pulp for being so _fucking stupid_ – when suddenly, completely without warning, he was pulled into a warm embrace – tight, rough, strong and almost disturbingly possessive.

Knives went instantly rigid; his insides twisted with the horror of this unexpected pleasure, this much-feared feeling of useless delight, and for a moment, his soul was naked, defenseless, totally without protection.

"You're wrong, Knives," Vash began, speaking into his hair. "This wasn't just a rash, idiotic decision. This was, and still is, the most sensible, most _perfect_ decision I have ever done in my life."

Knives swallowed, his unseeing eyes still looking away, as far away as they could._ 'I beg to differ.'_

"And why is that?"

_'...because, to this world, she was worth a hundred times more than I will ever be.''_

"Well, yeah. Maybe." Vash slid his hand below Knives' chin and lifted it lovingly. "But to me, and to her, you were worth a hundred times more than this world."

_...tha-dump._

Once again, silence conquered the small, dusty room as Knives could do nothing but remain still in his brother's arms, completely shaken. The walls of his small, carefully protected world began to fall apart with an unprecedented speed, and he observed everything like an outsider, like the suns in the sky always observed the destruction below, unable to interfere. The blood in his veins felt cold, heavy and gluey, until its unhurried flow first slowed, then stilled to an almost unnoticeable crawl – and finally curdled completely.

_Thadump. Thadump. Tha-dump._

_Tha...dump._

And yet, even though his veins were practically frozen, his heart was trying to beat.

It hurt like hell.

"What I meant to say is..." Vash continued, sliding his both hands down along Knives' sides and back in a way that made it clear he was completely at ease with the situation. "I love you."

Clenching his teeth, Knives managed to hold in a strangled cry that threatened to escape him. So simply, so plainly! Vash said it like it was the simplest, the plainest thing in the universe, like it was the most obvious, the most indubitable, what had always been and always would be. _Love. _And Knives wanted to yell at him, for being so _fucking stupid again, _but he couldn't, he was too weak, he couldn't get anything out of his mouth. Or even his mind.

"I wish you'd believe me, because I really _do _love you. And... I'm also so very sorry. For everything that I have done."

And he began to chafe Knives' clammy skin, gently, with adoring hands, trying to make him warm up a little, trying to make him a bit more relaxed, a bit less rigid. He kissed Knives' temples, and his lips were warm, hot, burning, scorching, and Knives was panting now, silently, and he wanted to meet those lips with his own, but he wouldn't, he couldn't, he wasn't allowed to – and he suddenly wanted to die again.

Knives swallowed, and his spit tasted like iron, like a rusty iron pipe would taste if being licked. His mind was reeling, which wasn't a new sensation, but unpleasant nonetheless for a man – a plant – who had always been in charge of his own self and could no longer be. Somehow he realized the soreness in his body was gradually subsiding, but the relief was only momentary for it was almost immediately overshadowed by a new kind of pain: the pain of futile hope.

Knives grasped Vash's shirt with his hands, twined his fingers into the damp fabric, squeezed hard, tried to breathe. Those words... Why now? Those words of love and regret, words that once would've meant a world to him, words he would have given his life for, just to hear them once in the past! Why now? Why now, when Knives had lost his trust in them? Why now, when they no longer meant anything?

Why now, when they still meant so very much, too fucking much, _everything_?

Knives dropped his head on Vash's shoulder and inhaled his brother's unique, intoxicating scent. His eyes were stinging, something weird was once again leaking out of them.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Vash asked, speaking into his hair, softly, so softly.

_'Because...'_ he began, but didn't continue. Instead, he forced himself to straighten his back, to sit up more vigorously, more self-confidently, to appear more composed, more like that Millions Knives he knew he was, somewhere deep inside.

He turned away from Vash and coughed up some of that disgusting, iron-tasting phlegm, spitting it in what he assumed was the general direction of the floor. Then he tried his voice, the one that was physical, the one that was real. Predictably, it was hoarse – but at least he could finally use it.

"Because there's nothing to say," he croaked. "It's too late now."

"No, it's not," Vash good-humoredly argued, sounding both amused and serious at the same time. Long fingers resumed to kneading Knives' lower back, strong fingers, commanding fingers – fingers that made all of Knives' efforts slip through his own, shaking ones. "You're just being purposefully difficult. Not that there's anything new in that."

Knives felt like screaming in the inside. It was true - it _wasn't _too late. Hell, it would _never _be too late, not for Vash. Because Knives would love Vash always. Just as he had for the past 120 years. That kind of love just didn't disappear in one night.

_Nor did it spark._

"I'm not being difficult," he muttered, looking at nothing in particular, willing his eyes to see something other than the colors of moonlit snow for a change. Not that he'd ever seen moonlit snow before, not really, he just presumed. "I... I'm just feeling sick," he quietly added, wishing Vash would leave it at that.

But no, of course that wasn't how it was going to be.

"Still?" Worry, deep worry in the slightly frantic voice. Exploring hands all over his body, making him want to squirm, to slither away from the rousing touch, to moan like a street cat in heat. "How sick, exactly?"

Fuck. Knives just couldn't take it anymore, no, not anymore. No more of that fake concern, no more of those forged feelings. No more futile hope. Vash was using his weakened condition to manipulate him into believing something he _wanted _to believe. But Knives knew better, he knew when to be doubtful.

"I'm sick because you're making me listen to your fucking lies," he spat, pushing Vash harshly away. "Now shut the fuck up and let me restore my health in peace."

"Lies?" Vash sounded irritated, insulted, angry even, and pressed Knives hard against the couch cushions. "What lies? I just fucking told you I love you, and I was being completely honest!"

"Ha! Let me tell you something, genius. No-one can fall in love with someone they previously hated just overnight. Not even you."

"Yeah, well, it's not like I even had to," Vash growled out his reply, "because I never fell out of it in the first place!"

An electrifying chill ran through Knives' entire body, making him shiver almost uncontrollably, from head to toes. Something inside of him was activating, something he couldn't recognize, and he was afraid. Very afraid. It was as if he was no longer able to block those sharp lances of love Vash was so effortlessly shoving into his heart. Damn false hope. Whoever invented hope - either false or real - should be killed. If Knives now fell victim to Vash's tempting words and got his wings burned in the end, he would never recover from the pain again. Never again.

He covered his mouth as he was hit by a fit of coughing. "Whatever."

"What's with that half-assed attitude?" Vash snarled, losing his temper, shaking Knives' shoulders with unexpected force. "I. Fucking. Love. You."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do! And you would see it, if you weren't so fucking blind!"

"Well, fuck you! It's hardly _my _fault I'm blind, is it?"

"That's _not_ what I meant, and you know it! Argh! Do I have to fucking _slap_ you before you start acting like a grown-up again?"

"Yea," Knives smirked, manically thrilled, arching his neck until his mouth touched the soft skin of Vash's neck, ready lick, ready to bite, he couldn't quite decide. "Slap me! I might even like it!"

"Mmm..." Vash hummed in reply, sounding irritatingly complacent, as if he didn't really care what Knives might or might not attempt to do. "I bet you would. Masochist."

Fondly, tenderly, dotingly. Intensely. Fingers sliding in between his collarbones, teasing. Spiky hair falling against pale yet blushing cheekbones, tickling.

Knives had difficulties to breathe. Something wasn't right. Vash was... not Vash. But still, sincerity as genuine, as pellucid as this... could not possibly be faked. There wasn't a single bodily sign of indecision, not a single mental vibration sounding deceitful. His brother appeared to respond to his shameless advances keenly, without misgivings, without any kind of hesitation - as if he'd always welcomed Knives' affections instead of shrinking away from them in disgust.

He tried his luck again, reached out with his tongue and licked his brother's pulse point, waiting for a flinch, a jerk, anything that might have suggested Vash felt nauseated, queasy or uneasy. But Vash just leaned in closer, his breatihing getting heavier, and grunted in pelasure. Knives felt a massive panic attack approaching.

"W-what's wrong with you?" he whispered, only now realizing his brother might have seriously gone mad after witnessing his so-called death.

"Nothing."

"Then why..." Knives took in a calming breath and pushed Vash away. His hand received a tingling, electric shock when it blindly fell on his brother's face, and he quickly pulled it away, surprised.

"Why what?"

"Uh..." Knives gathered his thoughts. "Why the fuck do you act so strange?"

Vash chuckled. "And why do _you_ act so _paranoid?"_

"Paranoid?" Knives gaped. "_Paranoid?_"

"That's what I said."

"If anyone here's paranoid, it's you," Knives hissed in his wild, blind irritation. "What are you, afraid of something? Do you think there's some kind of an unforeseeable force that might come and punish you if you don't treat me nicely for a change?"

"I think we both know there're no unforeseeable forces in this world - not besides ourselves, anyway. And I already know what it's like being punished by you."

"You don't know _half _the shit I could do to you. And I'm not some pathetic cripple any longer, thanks to your own fucking stupidity, so you just watch and I'll show you."

"Oh, yeah?" Vash was suddenly very close again, too close, and Knives could feel his strong, erratic breaths on his face. "Well, _bring it on._"

However, before Knives could react, Vash had locked his arms above his head with a swift movement and pinned him even harder down on the cushions. Knives could feel his brother's hip-bones digging painfully into his own. And, most disconcertingly, it wasn't justhis hipbones he could feel.

"What are you doing?" he squeaked - yes, _squeaked_, be damned his still somewhat unstable voice - and blushed quite prominently.

"Hm? What, me?" Vash teased, rocking his hips in the process. "Nothing. I thought you were gonna show me something interesting and just got prepared for it."

"A-ah..." Knives shivered, but no longer from the cold. He was back in his full powers, damn it - so why the hell was he still so weak? Maybe it wasn't Vash who was acting weird, here. Maybe it was...

"Knives?"

"Nnnh?"

"You really seem to like my touch."

"...I don't!"

"Hah! Come on, razorblade, spread your legs," Vash laughed gently, his lips brushing against the side of Knives' mouth as he spoke. "You know you want it."

"Wha- wait! _Wait!_" Knives seized his brother's hair and tried to fight him off as he began to yank off what was covering his privates. "You can't jus- - mffft!"

And then, just like that, Vash _could_. He grabbed Knives' knees and elbowed them harshly apart, settling himself more comfortably between them. Then he interrupted Knives with a deep, passionate kiss, crushing his defenses with a few, maddening strokes of his tongue, taking his breath away completely.

He ate him hungrily, and Knives let him.

There was no way Knives wouldn't have let him.

Something painful yet liberating exploded in Knives' chest as he succumbed to his twin's relentless willpower. The excessive energy that had been churning inside of him now found an escape route through the kiss they were sharing, turning it electric and powerful, almost frightening in its intensity. The air seemed to crackle between them, and Vash seemed to absorb every ounce of energy Knives was leaking as if wanting to absorb him completely, down to his very soul.

"Can you feel how much I want you?" Vash panted, pulling Knives' lower lip between his not-so-gentle teeth before shoving his tongue in his mouth again. "Can you feel," he shamelessly groped Knives' bare ass, "how much I fucking _love _you?"

Knives could only reply with an incoherent moan, his voice sounding strange to his ears. Infuriated with himself, he admitted he should have been more on his guard from the very first moment he regained his consciousness. He should have known something like this might happen – he should have known Vash would try to conquer him - but that was too late, now. Vash had been too quick, too clever for him this time. And besides: how could he have known he'd find himself alive in the first place? He had counted on being dead, after all.

Vash swiftly realigned their bodies, and Knives could now feel his brother's huge erection poking against his lower abdomen. When had Vash released it from the confines of his trousers? Knives had absolutely no idea – but, frankly speaking, he didn't even care. It was now skin against skin, and it was a feeling so terrifyingly wonderful he thought he might actually die of it. And, before he could help it, he was completely soaked by the whirlpool of rampant energy, losing control of his body and mind.

Knives felt his forehead instantly dampen with cold sweat, felt his veins carry particles of ice among the blood. It was dangerous for him, to lose control of his mind. His mind was a very, very worrisome thing, and if even Knives was unable to command it...

The world was suddenly black instead of sparkling white. The ghosts of his insecurities began to resurface; the anger caused by rejection raised its head from the depths of his mind. They were whispering frightening things to Knives; vicious things, foul things, things he didn't want to hear, things he didn't want roaming in his fragile mind, not now, not tomorrow, not ever again. But the ghosts were pitiless. They held him in a tight, suffocating grasp and wouldn't let him escape. They gnawed at his frantically beating heart, clawed at the insides of his messed-up head until his brains were bleeding, and Knives realized he couldn't breathe anymore.

He screamed in agony, but no sound came out. The whispers intruded his entire consciousness, made him sick, made him distressed, made him terrified. They were saying Knives shouldn't trust the reality because he was crazy, mad, insane. As easily as a dream could become real, the reality could become a dream. And even if this wasn't a dream, it might still not be real. Because even reality depended on the point of view. And there usually was no point in Knives' view. Things that were now happening might not really be happening after all. Even if it now seemed that Vash loved him, there was no guarantee Vash in love _with _him. And that simply meant Vash might not love him _at all._ Not for _real._

Again, and again, a whisper after another – and Knives could no longer feel the sweetness of his brother's kisses, couldn't feel the warmth of his touches, couldn't smell the scent of his skin. Vash was no longer real. Not the loving Vash, at least. No... This Vash was cruel. This Vash was just taking advantage of his vulnerability. This Vash was doing all these things just because he wanted to gain control over him; using him by confusing him. Stealing his heart just to confine it atrociously in a tight iron maiden afterwards; an iron maiden that was actually his cold, cybernetic fist, capable of crushing him utterly and completely.

"Knives! Hey, hey... Knives! Are you alright? Look at me, love. Looke at me!"

Like from a magic touch, Knives gasped for some air, feelig dizzy. Vash was shaking him. No... It wasn't that. Knives was shaking by himself, nearly uncontrollably, and Vash was trying to calm him down, smoothing his cold yet sweaty forehead, hugging him close. Knives' heart was beating so fast he was sure it would start to rip at the metaphorical seams.

"Shh. Everything's alright. Everything's just alright."

"D-don't fool me, Vash. You don't really want me. You don't really love me. Stop manipulating me when I'm sick and weak. Fuck! Stop saying those things to me! I don't want to hear them, I don't..."

"Knives... hey, Knives..."

Knives felt his wrists being held down in a tight grip. Maybe that was because he'd tried to scratch his own face off.

"You don't even know what you're doing. You don't really... you don't..." Knives' voice died down. He realized he was fighting tears.

"But I do," Vash said, his voice thick with feeling. "How can I not want you, how can I not love you, having you lying here in my arms like this, butt naked and so totally pissed off? You really have no idea how insanely much I'm drawn to you, do you?"

Trying his best to collect himself, Knives just stubbornly ignored his brother and looked away. He had already lost his pride once, confessing his feelings to Vash. He didn't have to make the same mistake again.

"Knives...?" Vash turned his face back, holding a gentle thumb below his chin. "Look at me."

"What for? I can't see you, anyway."

"Just look at me."

Reluctantly, but too tired to resist, Knives opened his eyes – and to his surprise, the strange miasma that had been blinding him was no longer black or white, but marred with colors. He could faintly distinguish the lines of his brother's face, the blue of his brother's eyes. He realized there was some kind of a strange connection existing between them; Vash was continuously soaking up his energy, relieving Knives from the overdose of power he'd gotten from their sister. The threads of electricity were almost visible, even to his restricted eyesight, transmitting through skin contact, and the ends of their blond locks were coiling together like tendrils of fast-growing poison ivy. Vash was taking care of him, making him feel better, and Knives hadn't even been aware of it until now.

A hand snuck around his right hip, strong and cold cybernetic fingers carefully smoothing his skin.

_'I know you don't trust my words, but there is no reason why you shouldn't trust what is in my mind. You can see everything if only you wish to. So, please... invade my brain to see the truth. I won't block you. Not this time.' _

Like hypnotized, Knives stared at the constantly clarifying, magnetic blue of his brother's irises, unable to look away. His vision was rapidly becoming clear and he could already see their expression. And somehow, just somehow, he knew Vash was being serious. Never mind what the ghosts had been whispering, Vash was being honest. Truthful. Sincere. Vash really wasn't trying to fool him.

_'No,' _he finally decided, scratching the sticky leather of the couch with his nails when determinedly closing his fists. _'I don't want to do that to you.'_

Vash smiled and nuzzled his nose gently against Knives' cheek. "Then you must be willing to believe me otherwise."

Knives swallowed, tasting something bitter. He didn't really know what he should say.

"Knives..." Vash sighed, slowly trailing kisses along his jaw_._ "I want us to stop fighting."

Knives craned his neck - unknowingly - to give his brother better access, but didn't say anything.

"I really think we could come to an understanding if we tried." Vash brought his mouth slowly lower and lower and Knives nearly shrieked - just nearly - when he felt sharp teeth close teasingly around his left nipple. "What do you think?"

"A-ah, um..." Knives panted. His whole attention was on the tongue that was swirling around one of his most sensitive spots. It was very distracting. _Very _distracting. "I, ah... I guess..."

"Hmm? Then how about, for starters..." Vash slid his hands down Knives' tickly sides and gave the unfortunate - or lucky - nipple a small bite. "You quit destroying the human race?"

"Amffhh... "

"Will you?"

"I don't know," he grunted, feeling this was a very odd way to carry on a serious conversation. "I seriously _hate _spiders."

"I know. And that's why you're gonna have to try real hard to restrain yourself." Vash cupped Knives' ass cheeks, one of his hands warm and the other one cold. "I mean, if I ever see you killing spiders again, I'll get crazy mad. And that's not what you want, is it?"

"Ahnnm." Knives replied noncommittally and closed his eyes. The ghosts were now gone, and his brother was making his whole body feverishly sensitive with his touch, making him aroused. More aroused than he'd ever been before.

"Repeat after me: I promise won't kill any more spiders."

"I... I..." Knives bit his lower lip. "I promise I won't... kill... if they keep their fucking distance!"

"That wasn't very convincing, was it?"

Without warning, Vash moved lower, trailing his greedy, wet tongue down along Knives' firm abdominal muscles. Then he found his twin's tiny navel and began to press the strong muscle in and out of the sensitive cleft, practically fucking it. This wasn't what Knives had been expecting. This wasn't what he had been prepared for. Not at all.

"Hukkk...! Vash, d-don't...!" Desperately, he tried to get up and escape, but was forced to remain put by his brother's weight. "You shouldn't... really shouldn't do th-that..."

"Oh, yeah?" Vash smirked against Knives' stomach, un-hesitantly crooking his fingers and spreading his brother's buttocks wide. "Well, I guess you're right. Instead of your navel, I might as well be fucking your ass. How would you like that?"

Knives whimpered at the mental image caused by this strange, dirty talk. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, desperately trying to regain at least a little of his composure. "N-no, you can't do that. You really can't."

"Hm?" Vash swept his tongue over Knives' navel again."You think so?"

"Ah...!" Knives gasped. "I know so!"

"Well. I don't see why I shouldn't, so..."

Vash spat in his hand, spreading the saliva over his fingers. Knives' eyes widened as he saw those same fingers getting closer and finally starting to probe his hole. He tried to protest, but Vash was too fast for him; he had pushed two fingers half an inch inside before Knives could utter a syllable.

"O-oy!" Knives instinctively slapped his brother in the head. "That's –"

"Millions Knives, if you really didn't want this, I'd already know. Now _shut the fuck up _and try to enjoy it a little. I know what I'm doing."

Vash kissed him fiercely and demandingly, and Knives yielded. His brother, his sweet cry-baby brother, was taking control – and he could do nothing about it. Absolutely nothing. Even though he knew in his head that he shouldn't fall so easily, both his body and his heart forced him to succumb.

Vash probably sensed the change, the submission in Knives, because he didn't waste time in pushing those two fingers all the way inside. Gasping with both pain and odd pleasure, Knives brought up his arm to cover his burning face in shame. With his other hand, he frenetically clawed at the couch's leather upholstery as Vash began to move the fingers, sending jolts of high voltage soaring through his body. Knives bit his forearm so he wouldn't moan out loud.

Where had Vash learned to do all this? Knives would have liked to feel jealous, but somehow couldn't muster up the willpower to do that. One did learn a lot of things in 120 years, after all.

"You okay?" Vash hoarsely asked, lips brushing Knives' cheek. "'Cause I don't think I can hold back much longer."

Knives gave his twin a long, albeit half-delirious look from below his arm. He had never seen Vash look so covetous of anything, so completely crazy. Vash's eyes were burning, he was breathing fast and erratic, and he had droplets of sparkling, electric sweat running down his temples. And not only this, but he was also completely surrounded by some blinding, otherworldly light.

Touching Vash's lips with his fingertips, Knives narrowed his eyes against the glow and recognized it as their inner electricity merging in the air. It seemed like the pulsating currents had taken form of two brightly shining, continuously regenerating wings behind his brother's back, sparkling feathers falling down around them like giant snowflakes, disappearing into thin air with a crackle before they could touch the ground.

Vash was not a human being anymore. He was something more. He was a plant, just like Knives. And Knives had never in his life seen anything or anyone so divinely beautiful.

Knives draped his arms around Vash's waist, holding on as tight as he could. He dug his nails deep into his brother's heated skin, sunk his teeth firmly on Vash's shoulder and prepared himself for what he knew was about to follow. He couldn't escape this. Not anymore. He had lost the war, and he knew it.

In the very next nothing, Vash entered him with raw force, spreading him painfully open and wide. The feeling was so agonizingly intense he was forced to take fast, deep breaths just to stay conscious. Electricity crackled between them once again, and the only thing Knives could see for a moment was a swirling mixture of bright and black, the colors of their respective Angel Arms.

This was not making love in the same sense humans perceived it; this was more primitive, more violent, more possessive and much, much more meaningful. This was one taking control over another. This was the stronger one laying claim to the weaker one. This was a fight of dominance between two strong plants, the victorious one shackling the one who had lost. This wasn't even a conscious act, not entirely; their inner senses were taking a hold of them, guiding them along this dangerous path of no return - and yet, they both were more than well aware of what was happening.

This meant Vash was practically enslaving Knives, and Knives was willingly accepting his new position below his brother.

"You belong to me now, Knives," Vash growled, holding still and letting Knives adjust to his width and length. "Do you understand? This can't be undone."

Knives felt like a pinned butterfly, totally powerless in his twin's virile grasp. He hoped Vash wouldn't move too roughly just yet. "Yes," he panted, his wide-spread sphincter constricting against the intrusion. "I understand."

"Good. And now you will promise me never to kill spiders anymore."

"I... ah..." Knives swallowed. "I can't promise you that. You know I can't."

Vash stared down at Knives with a deadly expression. Knives gulped, feeling his brother's anger rising through the electrical threads between them.

"W-well... I... I'll _try_, okay? I'll _try_ not to kill spiders anymore."

Vash was silent, and Knives felt the dark shadows rising in his heart again. He felt bile in his throat when he thought about what he just might have lost with his stubborn, stupidly proud attitude. Yet he knew he could never have replied any other way. That would have been lying, and he didn't lie.

Knives waited. He was starting to believe Vash would now abandon him once and for all, break his dainty butterfly wings and mercilessly throw him in the webs of the spiders. And since Knives was now possessed... he could not rise again.

However, to his surprise, Vash did no such thing. Instead, he broke into a bright smile and hugged him close. Pressing their foreheads together, he lovingly gazed down at Knives, who was completely stunned. "I guess that's the best promise I can ever get out of you," he smirked, giving a little laugh. "Trying is good. Trying is very good. At least it's an effort."

Knives lowered his eyes – only now realizing he was crying like a small human child – and kissed his twin's scarred shoulder, feeling broken flesh where his teeth had left deep marks only moments earlier. He tasted blood - and it tasted the same as his own.

Vash had been right from the start: everything would be okay. Everything would be just okay.

Knives let his head fall back onto the soft cushion and closed his eyes in bliss as Vash began to make love to him.

_So... On the seventh night, a weightless ship races to the sky. _

_Sound life... _

_Sound life... _

* * *

TBC

Author's note: This was a very hard chapter for me to write. Thank you everyone who encouraged me to continue. One more chapter still left! I hope I'll get it out faster than this one...

-Lances


	15. The Eighth Morning

AN: I'd like to remind you that this story is based mostly on the ANIME version of Trigun. Only some random things are picked from the manga. Also, I'm sorry it takes so long to update; I got a baby who takes up most of my time. This chapter should be the second last. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**ARACHNOPHOBIA**

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**Chapter 15: The Eighth Morning**

She heard the tick-tock of a clock, somewhere close by. The steady noise irritated her nerves and she wanted to make it stop; however, instead of doing something about it, she just laid completely still, taking in deep breaths as if she'd just surfaced from a dive. The smell of tobacco, old furniture and old wood invaded her senses, making her open her mouth and taste the air. Where was she? Feeling unwell, she swallowed several times, finding her throat dry. She squeezed her hands and felt some strange material wrapped around her left palm. Then she heard the question:

"How do you feel, Milly?"

Of course she recognized the voice immediately; it belonged to her long-time friend and colleague, Meryl Stryfe. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and looked about her. Her vision was a little hazy, but she could still distinguish Meryl's worried expression somehow. Her face was bathing in flickering candle light, just like everything else in the room; was it night? There was only darkness behind the windows. Nothing else. Just pitch black darkness. Milly shivered, realizing she was lying on a bed, under a thick blanket. Her left hand began to ache. She felt horrified. She could not put her finger on it, but something was not right. There was something terrible in the air, and every bone in her body could feel it.

"We're at Frank Marlon's house right now," Meryl continued with a subdued voice, wiping Milly's forehead with a damp, warm cloth. "You have lost quite a lot of blood, so you may feel a little dizzy."

A recent memory flashed before her eyes and she touched her face. Her fingers came in contact with soft wrappings and she felt a cold shiver slithering through her body. Then, with the consciousness came the pain - the searing, agonizing pain. She felt like screaming, but no voice came out. She gasped for air, time and time again - until she felt a sudden rush of euphoria, so inexplicably strong she thought she'd lost her mind. The corners of her mouth turned up, up, up... and she was smiling, the widest smile she had ever smiled. Tears spilled from her eyes, reacting to the pain. The taste of copper rushed into her mouth through her teeth as her badly slit lips were stretched. And she was laughing.

Meryl's hands were holding her down, pressing her wrists. "She's panicking! Frank, she's panicking! We must do something!"

"Give it time," a deep male voice chimed in. "It'll be over soon."

Milly only partially registered what was happening around her. She cradled her belly in her arms and laughed without being able to stop it. She felt over-excited and giddy; the adrenaline in her blood multiplied quickly as she thought back on what had happened. The rush of euphoria made her dizzy and she felt _happy, _although she distinctly understood that feeling was out of place. Her tears were adding stinging salt to her wounds, making them hurt like hell - but the sensation was fantastic, because she could finally feel everything in the way that she should. She could feel everything, the pain, the horror, the despair - she could feel _everything, _and she could feel it _right_. The pain was pain, the horror was horror, the despair was despair - and there was no more of that dullness and numbness that had commandeered her life for these past few months. She was hurting, and she was crying - and she knew that finally, after so many dark months, she would be alright.

Yes – she would finally be alright.

"Her heart's beating too fast!" Meryl's distant, panic-stricken voice informed, and Milly realized there were firm little fingers pressing on the pulse point on her wrist.

"There, there, let me see."

A shadow crept over her, diminishing the glow from the candles. Gradually, Milly stopped laughing, but a ridiculously happy smile remained on her face. She wiped her eyes in order to clear her teary vision. A middle-aged-looking man was peering down on her, his face gentle but somehow also a little rough. She had no actual recollection of knowing him, but she instinctively knew that she did. She felt that she could trust him. Therefore, she didn't draw back as he laid his coarse hand carefully against her bandaged cheek and leaned even closer.

"Alright now, lass," he sighed, and there was a strange, merry twinkle in his eye. "I know you're glad to be alive after what you've just gone through, but you're making your friend worry."

Milly fixed her gaze on Frank Marlon's face. For some reason, the man's words calmed her down considerably. She flexed her aching left hand fingers and realized they didn't move as well as they should have. Shakily, she brought the hand on top of Frank's on her cheek. Her throat was sore, and the taste in her mouth was horrible.

"W-water, please."

Meryl bolted up and left the room for what felt like a small eternity. Then she was back with the requested refreshment and Milly drank it greedily, holding the glass in her trembling, un-bandaged right hand. When she handed the glass back, she saw red stripes dancing in the remaining water. She realized she must still be bleeding, and touched her lips. It stung. She touched them again - this time harder, savoring the feeling, spreading the blood between her fingers.

"Milly, don't do that," Meryl moaned and fished a clean linen from somewhere, intending to press it against Milly's mouth.

Milly took the linen herself, twisting it in her hands before gently wiping her lips. She felt confused, yet she had never been so clear with her thoughts before. There was a certain sort of new awareness in her, as if her mind had been set free from a cage, and she marveled at how lucid the world seemed to her right now. Behind the window, it was still dark, but the darkness no longer felt ominous. Her heart was wonderfully content, and she realized she would finally be able to accept everything that had happened in the past, as well as what would happen in the future. It was as if her conflict with Knives had made her realize she did not want to be dead after all. She wanted to live - even if it was in the world where Nicholas Wolfwood did not exist anymore.

"What time is it?" she asked after a while, her voice coming out half a whisper, half a groan. "Is it already midnight?"

"It's about four in the morning," Meryl replied, looking at her intently. "You passed out from blood loss. You've been asleep for over twelve hours."

"Have I?" Milly wondered, licking her still bleeding lips. "And what about Mr. Knives?"

Meryl visibly flinched before her expression turned murderous. "I hope he is dead."

Milly felt her heart constrict - until the feeling of calmness filled her again, making her look at the world through a strong glass wall. She saw herself in Knives' bedroom, kneeling beside the man who she knew to be very dangerous and, due to his sickness, in a highly volatile state of mind. She saw her former self sticking to her usual, overly nice and caring behavioral pattern despite recognizing the signs of danger, ignoring the pleas to go away, ignoring the warnings, and she felt nauseous. How could she have been so cruel, so inconsiderate? Not only towards herself, but towards Knives as well? Not to mention...

Milly swallowed quietly and began to stroke her lower belly. There was a little human being in there, floating in the safety of her womb. She suddenly realized how extremely lucky she was that she had not experienced miscarriage. She could still feel the bubbly sensation produced by the embryo's small kicks. A monstrous amount of love tickled every single cell in her body and she smiled again. She had Knives to thank for all of this. Up until now, she had been indifferent at best towards her unborn child. Before, she had been too depressed to find any kind of joy in being pregnant, but now...

"I hope he'll make it," she sighed, looking at both Frank and Meryl in turn. "He was in a pretty bad shape, but I hope he'll be alright. I'm sure Vash will find a way to help him."

"What in the world are you saying, Milly?" Meryl gaped. "That evil monster just very nearly killed you! He deserves to be dead!"

"No, no," Milly swallowed. Her eyes filled with tears again. "No-one deserves to be dead."

"He does."

"No."

"_Yes." _

Milly started to pick the wrappings around her left hand, purposefully avoiding Meryl's steely gaze. "I… I kind of understand why you should think so," she finally said, deciding to make things clear right away. "He's hardly done anything good. But the truth is... you can't blame Mr. Knives for _this_." She lifted up the injured hand and touched her face. "This wasn't his fault. This was... an accident."

From the corner of her eye, Milly saw Meryl's face flushing dark red with disbelief and anger. "An accident! You think he mauled your face by accident? You clearly don't know what you're saying. This wasn't an accident! You don't seem to realize what he did to you. Have you got any idea how you look? Do I have to give you a mirror to show you?"

"I don't care how I look!" Milly's lips trembled. "Don't you get it, Meryl? This is nothing! This pain is _nothing_ compared to the pain I went through when Nicholas died! This pain is nothing compared to the numbness, the complete disability to _feel - -!_"

Milly stopped to catch her breath. Meryl seemed to have gone speechless for the moment.

_"_I may not be able to make you understand, but… right now, I happen to be much better off than I was yesterday morning." Milly continued, patting her bleeding lips with the linen. "At least the overpowering, unemotional apathy has ebbed away. I can feel Nicholas in my heart again."

The worst peak of Meryl's rage seemed to have passed, considering she was tugging her ear nervously and trying to look compassionate. "Yes - yes, of course it was horrible, the way we lost dear Wolfwood. I can't even imagine how you have felt; it must have been torturous. I, too, have been excessively sad. He was such a good young man - I mourn him every day. But still, forgive me, Milly - I still can't see how this," she indicated at Milly's facial wounds, "has anything to do with Wolfwood's death. I don't quite see the connection. That you have felt even greater pain must be true - but why did you have to feel _this_ pain _at all?_ Millions Knives is an evil, evil man who should seriously pay for every terrible thing he has done."

"He already _is _paying for what he has done, Meryl. It's only in a way you could never understand." Milly looked at her friend sadly. "But I do. I understand him. We understand each other."

"Clearly he not only mauled your face, but also messed with your brain," Meryl sneered. "Milly, it was very close you didn't die tonight! Can't you understand how severe the situation was - and still is?"

"I do understand, and I'm sorry for appearing so stupid. But I can't hate Knives, no matter what you say." Milly reached for the glass of water again and stared at the faintly pink liquid. "Because of what happened, I have found my true self again. I have found my will to live again. And that's very important, considering I'm going to have a baby in a few months' time."

The blank look on Meryl's face was a comical sight, but Milly had the sense to keep her countenance serious. She pulled Meryl closer and put her hand against the little bulge that was her swollen womb. "I'm pregnant, Meryl. It's Wolfwood's."

Meryl didn't say anything for near a minute - but when she did, she was full of astonishment and confusion. "What? How? When did you...? Milly, don't joke about something like this."

"I would never joke about this." Milly heaved a sigh. She turned to look at Frank Marlon, ever so quietly leaning against the wall on the other side of her bed, smoking a cigarette. "If you don't believe me, you can call a doctor to confirm it."

Frank raised his hands before him and gave her a lopsided, half serious and half amused smile. "No, no. I think we've bothered the doctor enough for one night already."

Milly put the glass away, too disgusted to drink from it. "Anyway, Mr. Knives knows about it, too. And he told me it's a boy."

Meryl was beyond shaken, to say the least. She fell on her knees to the floor, hands squeezing the edge of Milly's bed in a vice-like grip. "So he did that to you, even knowing that you're… you're…"

"I keep telling you, he didn't hurt me on purpose." Milly dropped her head down on the pillow and sighed. "Besides, everything's fine, now. My baby and I are just fine."

"Well, then – I guess I should offer my congratulations," chuckled Frank, in a half friendly, half fatherly way. He didn't seem to be much affected by the news. In fact, he looked like a man who would hardly be affected by anything. "I'll go make some food for you, lass. You must be starving. Call me if you need anything."

Milly saw him out of the room with a thankful smile; she knew it was just his excuse to leave the girls alone so they could talk in private. When the door had closed behind him, the room was instantly filled with pressing silence. Meryl wasn't looking at Milly; she was still grasping the mattress so hard her knuckles were white, staring at the wooden floor. It seemed as if she was trying to collect herself before she would burst and say something that would only worsen the situation. Milly knew her friend had always hated Millions Knives, but Meryl was now being purposefully unjust. Milly knew Knives was the last person who deserved absolution, but she also wasn't ready to accuse him of a crime he had not done, no matter how little that crime weighed on his previous list of wrongdoings.

Wondering when Meryl would snap out of her thoughts, Milly made an effort to grab the water jug from the side table to help her to some fresh water. It was too heavy for her weakened arms; her blood loss must have been considerable. The can wobbled as she poured, water splashing on the sheets. She grimaced, and her facial wounds reminded her of their existence, stinging underneath the bandages. Fighting another bout of tears, Milly let her arms relax and hugged the half-empty jug, feeling its coolness against her chest. Meryl hadn't noticed her struggles; she was still in her own world.

"Meryl, please say something."

As if waking up from a trance, Meryl looked up and blinked. Then she shook her head, covering her eyes with her hand. "This has been very rough twenty-four hours," she muttered, gathering herself up and sitting slowly down in the chair she'd been occupying the whole night. After a second glance in Milly's direction, she saw her problem with the jug and helped her out. Finally, Milly was able to drink and wash the coppery taste from her mouth. When it was gone, she instantly missed it. She didn't know why.

"I really don't know what to say, what to think," Meryl spoke up. "Just a few hours ago, you were dying in my arms, looking like something a wild animal had mauled - and now you're sitting there, a smile on your bandaged face, telling me that you're pregnant, telling me that Millions Knives should be forgiven for his attempt to kill you. I'm sorry, Milly, but this is just too much for me. Your attitude, your behavior... I cannot possibly understand what you're thinking."

Milly looked at her friend with sad, solemn eyes and then quietly nodded. She had anticipated this; she had already prepared herself for the possibility that Meryl would not understand. Actually, had been sure she wouldn't. There weren't many people that would. She was one of those people whose logic always seemed bizarre to everybody else. But she had to try to explain, nonetheless. For the sake of justice.

"Life is quite difficult, sometimes, when it comes to expressing, accepting and admitting feelings," she began, "especially when you happen to fall in love, and then suddenly lose the target of that beautiful feeling. You get lost. Everything changes; love turns to hate, passion to apathy. Only you don't know why you hate, because it is so consuming, and no amount of it will bring your beloved back. But you do, anyway. And you hate everything. Everyone. So you rely on apathy, to conceal your true feelings, and you put on a happy face, so that no-one would realize..."

Milly stopped to search for the right words. Her head was swimming, and she didn't know what she was saying, except that she somehow had to convey Meryl that she had been desperate, that Millions Knives had been desperate, and they were both just as guilty as they were innocent of the horrible situation of today. Meryl opened her mouth to say something, but Milly held up her hand and, after a cough, continued.

"So you're lost. And then you suddenly find out you're pregnant. You realize you should be happy. You should be full of love. You should be smiling. And you're not. You _cann__ot, _because you hate so much. And you get even more depressed, even more miserable, even more lost. All you want to do is to disappear entirely, to get away from it all - and you can't. You can't do anything. You can't do anything except continue to hate - and conceal that hate - and wish..." Milly swallowed, and then whispered. "Wish that there was someone who would help you out, who would be merciful and… just finish you off."

Meryl was very pale, her jaws clenched. She stared at Milly horror-struck, unable to produce a sensible word. Her hair was standing up in odd angles where she'd been tugging it for a while now, and the dark circles under her eyes appeared somehow even more prominent than before. She looked like she was going to collapse at any second.

"You probably wonder: if I wanted to be dead so much, why didn't I just shoot myself in the head?" Milly gave a hollow, humorless laugh. "I don't have the answer. Maybe I was just too scared. Whatever the reason, I couldn't do it. Therefore, a ruthless serial killer like Mr. Knives was exactly what I wanted. And there he was, wasting away right before my eyes! I couldn't let the opportunity slide. He was my ticket to freedom! I was sure he'd be happy to do the job. But I was wrong." Milly shrugged. "He didn't want to do it. He said it would be useless and unsatisfactory to kill someone who _wanted _to be dead. Besides... I'm sure Mr. Vash had told him not to hurt me. I think that's what counted most of all in the end."

"Then why?" Meryl suddenly exclaimed, her face contorted with anguish. "Why did he? Why did he hurt you?"

"Because I tricked him, Meryl."

"T-tricked?"

"Yes." Milly sighed and hung her head. Maybe she was making some kind of sense, after all. "I tricked Mr. Knives into doing this. I provoked him, knowing he was weak because of his illness. I ignored his pleas to leave him alone, knowing I was driving him mad. And, in the end, it paid off. Only, he still didn't kill me. Even in the edge of losing his sanity, he was still able to hold back. And that's the reason why I'm smiling today. I'm still alive. Only now," Milly stroked the wrappings all over her face, "I have a few never-fading reminders of how valuable my life truly is."

"Milly…"

Meryl made a few choking sounds - and then she burst out crying. She sobbed like a little child, leaning her arms against the edge of Milly's bed, her entire body trembling. The tears she had held back for months now finally fell freely, seeping into the thick mattress, dotting it grey where the canvas got wet. She cried for Milly, and she cried for herself - and even though her tears would never wipe out their painful past, or the painful reality they were now facing, they would at least bring out a small part of that pain, making it easier for her anguished heart to keep on beating.

"I'm sorry I've been so blind," she wailed. "I've been a terrible friend."

Milly stroked her friend's shaking shoulders, wondering what she should say. Meryl _had _been blind. But that didn't mean she had been a terrible friend. She'd had her own worries to think about. She'd been so completely blinded by hatred and jealousy towards Knives that she hadn't been able to pay attention to anything else. Milly wasn't mad at her: she had always known that people were self-centered creatures. She, too, had been one, only yesterday.

"We've both had it rough," she finally said, tenderly stroking Meryl's hair. "Let's not judge each other. Or ourselves. It's better that way."

Meryl nodded and began to chew her knuckles lightly. In her mind, Milly wondered if either of them would ever be happy again. She knew she probably would; she'd have a child who would bring her joy. But it would be a different story with Meryl. She, like perhaps many other girls before her, would have to give up her love for Vash the Stampede and find someone else; yet knowing her faithful nature, and the considerable depth of her feelings, she might never be able to pull it off. Perhaps, if Milly had told her from the beginning that she'd never stand a chance with a man like Vash…

Milly shook her head, slightly remorseful. She had known, yet she had remained silent. She had known Meryl's love would always remain unrequited. There had once been a woman whom nobody could ever replace in Vash's heart; a woman who had been as perfect as any human could ever be. Milly had heard her name only once, spoken up to the starry night sky with a voice that betrayed both longing and grief: _Rem_. Vash had called out to her as if she was his guardian angel, his light in the darkness, the star that guided his every decision; and even Milly, whom people generally thought so very slow, had instantly figured that this woman was the only one Vash the Stampede would, or could, ever love.

Milly had been wrong to just assume that Meryl would realize it on her own one day.

"Meryl... You know you've got to forget about him, don't you?"

The words were out before Milly could really decide whether or not it was wise to bring that subject up now. Meryl's shoulders tensed, but she didn't say anything.

"He won't come back to us. Not anymore."

To Milly's surprise, instead of retaliating, Meryl simply nodded and leaned her cheek back against the mattress. Silent tears ran down her face, but her eyes seemed calm. Milly took this as a good sign; Meryl was finally accepting the reality which she'd denied for so long. She was finally beginning to realize that her love, no matter how strong it was, would always remain unrequited. During this long, horrifying night, her eyes had become unveiled at last: Vash was not here, not with her. He had chosen to be with someone else; someone more important.

Muted clatter of kitchen utensils drifted into the room from behind the closed door. It was a strange mixture of noises; the sounds of Frank's attempts at cooking were joined in by Meryl's soft sniffling, Milly's fast and shallow breathing, the wind blowing outside and the constant tick-tock of the clock. Milly glanced at it: it was almost 4:30 in the morning. The first of the twin suns would rise in no time, expelling the shadows that were making everything appear like a befuddled dream right now. The flame of the candle would die out, the view from the window would turn bright, and the tears would dry; the magic of the night would disperse, leaving just swollen, reddened eyes and quiet acceptance behind. It would be the time to start anew. Milly had felt it in her bones for some time now: the world was no longer the same. Something immense had shifted and, if not literally, then at least figuratively, moved Planet Gunsmoke's axis.

There was a rasp behind the window, faint like a scrape of a tree branch. Yet Milly already knew it wasn't a tree.

"Meryl," she whispered, rolling a lock of her friend's black hair around her forefinger and gently releasing it. "Please, rise up."

Confused, her friend withdrew from the bed and straightened her back. "What is it?"

Milly watched as the first beams of the sun broke the darkness of the sky, outlining the mountains in the distance.

"He's here," she said, her eyes filling with new tears. "He has come to say goodbye."

* * *

Not far away, on top of the mountain ridge surrounding the city, Millions Knives reached out his hand and tried to grab the rising sun in it.

It rose fast, making the world look like a field of fire.

Soon, it would be accompanied by its twin.

_'So... On the eighth morning, a song from somewhere reaches my ears._

_Sound life... Sound life ..._

_...Sound life.'_

_

* * *

_

_Next: the Epilogue  
_


	16. Epilogue

**AN: **Hello, everyone! I've been neglecting this story and I apologize. My time's been stolen by my two children. However, here's the final chapter for ARACHNOPHOBIA, the Epilogue. It's been almost ready for over a year, yet it took me a long time to finish it. Hope you like what I have decided to do with Vash and Knives' future. Thank you for following this story till the end. -M. Lances

PS. This is un-betaed, so I apologize for possible errrors in writing.**  
**

* * *

**ARACHNOPHOBIA **

pathological fear or loathing of spiders

**_Epilogue_**

It was a beautiful midday, peaceful and full of life. The two suns were gentle with their touch and, for the first time in Planet Gunsmokes known history, there were three extensive clouds drifting in the sky, sheer and white.

A blond-haired man was sitting on a rock, watching his surroundings on top of the planets highest mountain. A small smile was playing on his lips; he was quite happy with what he saw. Beneath him, a young but lush forest spread out, circling the mountain like a veil of green, waving mist. He could hear the birds singing in the foliage, the wind gently rustling the leaves. In the middle of the greenness, on his left-hand side, was a small but very deep lake, embraced by cracked bedrock. The water was fresh and clear; it was rising from deep within the earth, where endless amounts of it lay hidden. A beautiful meadow full of blossoming flowers and a multitude of butterflies spread around it, until the shadows of the lush forest took the scenery over again.

Vash moved his gaze farther away, to the very edge of the forest. There, he saw the only thing that marred the nature's natural beauty: a strong, round steel fence surrounding the paradise on each side. It circled the root of the mountain like a high, roofless bird cage, the pillars slim and black, tops as sharp as arrowheads. Beyond, Vash could see only sand and grayish sky - the seemingly endless stretch of that merciless, hot desert that was still dominating most of the planet. Beyond the fence was Hell. Inside right here where he sat was Eden.

_'People at the January Shrine, Vash.'_

Knives' lazy, mentally conveyed drawl broke his musings. He glanced over his shoulder, facing the wind that was blowing from what he supposed was South; the mountain was namely situated in the northern hemisphere of the planet, exactly on top of the axis of rotation, so he wasn't sure if _all _the directions were called South. That was why the five shrines around the Eden were called by the names of the towns they were closest to: Janurary, Makka, Fondrique, Inepril and August.

_'Alright, I'll deal with it.'_

For over a decade now, Eden was considered a holy place. It was the paradise, in which the two Gods lived, and in which no man could enter. Nobody seemed to know the names of these gods; but there was a tale, according to which the twin suns had given birth to twin brothers, who had been sent to reign Planet Gunsmoke soon after the planet had become inhabited. At first, these twins had waged war with each other, not being able to rule side by side - but over 120 years of disorder, they had finally come to an understanding. Planet Gunsmoke had begun to heal; all that inexplicable destruction of towns had ceased, the general atmosphere had turned from frightened to hopeful, and the land had turned more fertile. All in all, after the gods had made peace with each other, the entire planet had begun to flourish.

Vash smirked as he trekked down the mountainside, challenging all the laws of gravity. It had been a glorious idea to create Eden. Knives was happy to be separated from the rest of the world, yet still being able to consider himself above anybody else in this glorious, heavenly garden - and the people that were denied the pleasures of this place were still happy to have the shrines at which to pray similar happiness to themselves.

Actually, the shrines were very important: only through people's prayers and wishes did Vash hear of the occasionally rising problems in different parts of the planet. Sometimes it was lack of food or water, or some such miserable thing; the desert could be very cruel, despite wells had been dug in almost every place possible. Other times it was terrorists or tyrants who had decided to overtake the lordship of some town or business and needed to be dealt with. And Vash did deal with these problems; he answered to every plea that was well-grounded; he considered it as his 'godly duty'.

Knives, however, did not consider it as a godly duty. He considered it plain insanity. He had never cared enough of people to wish them well, and wasn't about to start any time soon. He only cared if the complaints were about polluters or animal torturers, in which cases he _might _consider getting involved - but not unless he was given the license to torture and kill.

_'If you're going out to do some heroic deed again, please come back without having lost any important body parts, such as your head - or your cock.'_

_'That's really disgusting Knives. And couldn't you be a little more trusting?'_

_'Says the guy who's been practically sewn and nailed together.'_

_'You could heal me anytime if you wanted - but you think I'm sexy this way.'_

_'Don't delude yourself.'_

Vash laughed. Knives was still as fiendish as always, and often very rude; but he was also very caring, even though he veiled his concern in scorn. Knives did not like it when Vash went out to sort out problems in the 'spider world'. He did not like it at all. Vash knew this, but it was something he just had to do, and Knives just had to accept that. If Vash didn't interfere, Planet Gunsmoke would eventually face the same fate as the Earth: total destruction.

Vash slowed down his pace as he neared the January Shrine. It stood like a tall, slim silvery beacon right at the edge of the forest, flanked by the high black fence. There were three people sitting on the stone bench surrounding the deep, square fountain in the centre of the shrine, clearly appreciating the shadow the high ceiling offered; two women and a young boy. The boy was reaching down towards the water, splashing it with his little hands. Vash broke into a smile as the boy looked up, fastening his large, steel blue eyes at him before it was even realistically possible to distinguish him from the surroundings.

"Uncle Vash!" he grinned and waved with both hands.

The two women turned around as well, narrowing their eyes to see him better. Meryl was looking slightly grumpy and Milly just as air-headed as always, a stupid smile plastered on her scarred face. Vash waved back at the trio, wondering how many months had already passed since their last visit. It had to be several, seeing how much Blades had grown. Yes - Milly had named her child after his stupid brother; a fact that had thrown Knives into a fit of rage, but of which Vash knew he was secretly quite taken.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Vash simpered as soon as he came to the gate that allowed him to enter the "spider-side" of the shrine. "It's good to see you girls again. How are you all doing?"

Meryl's features softened and she cracked a careful smile. "We're actually doing quite well. Got promoted at work, and Milly got a pay raise. And... I've been kind of dating this one guy, lately."

Vash sat down on the embankment and looked at her carefully. She seemed healthier, somehow, and her mind seemed to be at peace. To say that she was helplessly in love would be stretching it too far, but the signs of serious attachment could be seen in her eyes and heard in the tone of her voice.

"I'm really happy for you," Vash said, ashamed of the little flame of relief that sprung into life in his heart. "I hope he's treating you well, or I'm gonna have to send my brother to see to the matter."

Meryl and Milly both laughed; they knew Vash was only joking. Sending out Knives was unheard of. It would be too cruel, even if Meryl's new boyfriend did turn out to be a jackass. Besides, Vash would want to handle that matter personally, anyway.

"And how is Knives?" Milly asked, her eyes flickering towards the high mountain.

Vash bit his lip. He was unable to look at the tall, big girl without staring at the two long scars that ran across her face. They were silky and almost white, and an everlasting evidence of Knives' dangerousness. One had bypassed her eye only just so, and the other had slit the side of her mouth, stopping just before her left ear. They made her look a little scary, but she carried her flaws with surprising pride and dignity.

"Knives. Well he's... very busy, as always," Vash replied with a good-humored sigh. "Not giving up on the sharks, although it seems a hopeless business. I mean, not even _he _can generate an _ocean_. And even if he could, what does he think the beasts would eat? Floating dead cacti?"

The truth was, Knives was alarmingly obsessed with their little secluded Shangri-La. He spent his days by tending their ever-growing selection of flora and fauna whenever he wasn't examining and making experiments with the DNA-library they had found and saved from the ancient SEEDS ships. So far, Knives had been able to bring to life nearly two hundred new plant species and fifty-four new animal species. Of course, nothing was exactly _new, _at least not to the twins - but the current generation of people living on Planet Gunsmoke had never even heard of such things as 'lily of the valley' or 'kangaroo'. Knives worked very hard on creating each specimen their ideal habitat and only released them in the wilderness beyond the black fence when he was certain they could make it. He also wanted to be sure these new species would adapt well with the already-existing organisms, the ones that originally belonged to Planet Gunsmoke. They were scarce and therefore should be protected even more than these new immigrants from Tellus the Earth.

Vash was immensely proud of his twin, really.

"He'll figure it out," Milly said confidently, even admiringly. "He's very good at what he's doing. He's done so much for this planet already. I always love to come here with Blades, just to watch the Eden between the gaps in the fence. Blades is good at spotting animals."

The boy had climbed on Vash's shoulders. "I saw three weird-looking grey beasts bathing in a mud pond when we arrived," he explained enthusiastically. "Neither Mommy or Aunt Meryl knew what they were called."

"Ah, those must've been the rhinos," Vash laughed. "Knives finally got them to breed. The smallest one was the baby."

"I wish Uncle Knives would come see us."

"Well, yes," Vash felt a little awkward. How could he explain to a child so young the reasons that led to Knives separating himself from the rest of the world? Vash sighed, knowing he had to say _something_. "He's not really good with people," was what he finally came up with.

"Understatement of the century," Meryl snorted.

"Won't you tell him I miss him?" Milly pleaded. "It's been six years already since I last saw him."

Vash promised he would, just like every other time Milly and the others came to visit. And he knew Knives would appreciate the message, despite how vehemently he tried to deny it. Vash knew Knives had a soft spot for Milly, and especially Blades, in his otherwise Vash-occupied heart. A few times in the past, Vash had even caught Knives eavesdropping in the vicinity of the shrine, just to get a look at the boy. Knives had been so ashamed he'd lashed out in anger at Vash, who in turn had pinned the spitfire to the ground, removed his trousers and...

"Vash... There's something we'd like to bring to your attention," Meryl took a bunch of letters from her backpack, all of them official-looking and directed to the Bernardelli Insurance Company. "These are some letters Bernardelli's received from Lewiston Town. There's a new mayor in the city, and it seems criminality has increased quite handsomely during the six months he's been in charge. We haven't yet investigated the case, but what are the chances of him not being involved?"

Frowning, Vash scanned the letters quickly through. They all contained heart-breaking stories about how people were suffering in Lewiston Town. Violence, burglary, gambling, deceptions... Some had lost both their health and wealth, some had lost much more. And Bernardelli, now concentrating on regular customers since Vash the Stampede was sort-of ancient history, had to compensate for it all.

"You girls don't need to endanger yourselves," Vash bit his lip. "I'm going to sort this out."

Meryl looked satisfied, but Milly concerned. Milly always looked concerned these days when trouble was stirring up. Blades was too young to fully understand what was going on, but even he could sense something was wrong. He frowned, just like Vash had done earlier, and pointed at the letters.

"You always get a lot of those when we visit," he observed. "And then you look angry and sad."

Vash tried to fabricate a smile that would not look entirely false. "Well, yes, but it's nothing _you_ should worry about, brat. This is Uncle Vash's problem."

"I don't want you to have any problems."

"It's my job to solve problems, so I don't mind having them. This is why these shrines were built in the first place; people can come here and tell me and Uncle Knives if anything's wrong."

"And you'll always help them?"

"Yes. If the need is real, we will help them."

Blades looked happy and a little impressed. For a second, the image of smiling Nicholas Wolfwood flashed before Vash's eyes; the kid looked much like his dad. It was a pity no-one had a picture of Nicholas, so Blades would know what they were always on about.

"I think we must be going," Meryl said quietly. "It's a long journey to back January, as you know."

Vash knew. It was, after all, the very reason why he had chosen the place: it was far away from everywhere. They said goodbye, and not for the first time Vash thought it would be better if he just concentrated on being an invisible god and never saw his friends again. He never showed himself to anyone else, anyway. And it was getting more and more depressing to see how the years affected on the girls. They were not old for human beings, but they were getting older. One day, their meetings would become very awkward, possibly even sad. If given a choice, Vash preferred to remember them as they were now, still young and full of life. Yes... It was a high time for a final goodbye.

Vash watched their retreating backs as they walked towards their car. Milly was once again off with the fairies and Blades ran circles around her. Meryl glanced over her shoulder and waved with a smile.

_I'll see them just one more time, _he promised himself. _Just once more._

* * *

Vash spotted his brother taking a sunbath in the middle of a small clearing, near the root of the mountain. He was naked except for an old leather kilt covering his most private parts. He looked relaxed; hundreds of butterflies were fluttering above and around him, casting small, elusive shadows on his pearly skin. He looked divine. But his mind was not as relaxed as his body.

"You're leaving again tomorrow, aren't you?"

The tone of his brother's voice was accusative, but Vash didn't blame him for it. Who knew how long he would be gone this time? A week? A month? A year? Not that time should have mattered to them too much, but it did. Knives was reluctant to spend a single day without being close to Vash. Someone might call him clingy, but Vash only called him needy. Knives needed a ridiculous amount of body contact in order to maintain his vulnerable sanity. Last time he'd returned from a mission that had lasted five months, Knives had been sitting in a cave at the root of the mountain, rocking back and forth, shaking. He had been certain Vash had left him for good. It had taken Vash another five months to assure his brother that he wasn't going anywhere, that he truly did love him now and would be with him forever.

"Why don't you just leave the idiots to their misery?" Knives sounded bitter. "It's not like they're destroying the planet by their actions - only themselves."

Vash walked over and crossed his arms, standing above his twin. "I would if it were only a bunch of self-destroying scumbags. But as the case involves people with power abusing those who are without it, it's my duty as a god to go and sort it out."

"Hmph. If you put it that way." Knives glanced up at him, pouting. "Still, I don't see why those miserable downtrodden won't just stand up and deal with that mayor and his cronies on their own. They've got guns, surely? Everybody's got a gun these days."

"You wouldn't understand it, but bloodshed is the last thing people usually want." Vash sat down, scattering a few dozen butterflies as he spread his legs. Arguing with Knives about how to handle humans was not new to him. Every time someone prayed for help, they had this same conversation, even if the words chosen varied. "Violence feeds violence."

"And interference feeds their need to ask for our help. If you didn't go half as often, they'd stop asking so much."

"I like to know what's going on."

"I'm only concerned as far as the planet's wellbeing is concerned."

"I know you don't hold people much in value, but I do. And you've promised to let me take care of them."

"Yes, yes. I know. We've had this conversation so many times even _I _can't count, which is saying a lot."

The twin suns were bright in the sky, forcing Vash to narrow his eyes as he looked around him. Everywhere was peaceful and calm; he could very well stay here and forget that anything disastrous was going on outside of Eden's gates. Except he couldn't. He couldn't forget. He'd spent over a hundred years of his life out there; he cared about it too much to just let it be. Feeling both decided and a little sorrowful, Vash brushed the silky and tall, deep green grass with his fingertips. He wished he could stay, he really did - but that was not an option.

"You know, I think this argument went faster than ever before."

Knives didn't respond. He was pretending to be asleep, which was a little stupid, considering Vash could easily read his mind, and his mind was clearly awake. Wanting to appease him, he moved his hand to caress Knives's thigh instead of the grass. His fingertips tingled pleasantly as he traced the pale skin. No matter how much time Knives spent under the suns, he never got tanned. Moreover, his skin was completely flawless - a high contrast to Vash's own mauled form. In the past, Vash had been very self-conscious and avoided sexual relationships, but he didn't need to hide himself anymore. He could read Knives' mind, and he knew Knives spoke the truth when he said Vash was perfect the way he was.

Trust a former serial-killer have a fetish for men patched with mesh and screws.

Then again... Maybe Vash was the crazy one, having a fetish for former serial-killers.

Maybe they were both crazy.

By human standards, that is.

By which they couldn't wholly abide anyway, so what did it matter?

Feeling bold, Vash moved his hand higher, reaching underneath Knives' tauntingly sexy kilt. He wondered where Knives had dug out this old piece of garment, if it could be even called a garment, considering it was made of leather ripped from the back of an ancient couch and put together with a few self-bent metal clips. Vash grinned as he remembered the night he had made the kilt: Knives had been just healed, lying unconscious on the sofa, looking troubled even in his comatose-like sleep. And then Vash had kissed him: a tiny kiss just below his brother's chin. Knives had liked it. Vash had kissed him some more, and Knives had liked that, as well. Quickly, things had led to another, until finally...

Vash could remember their first time like it happened yesterday. He could still feel the power of that one time running in his system. It had been the moment he'd claimed the alpha role in their relationship, despite Knives had been physically stronger. It had been the moment when he'd gained complete control over Knives.

Inspired, Vash added pressure to his touch and scraped his fingers across Knives' inner thigh, eliciting an intake of breath from his companion. In a flash, Knives grabbed Vash's fingers into a tight grip, halting his movements.

"Don't tease me. You're never in the mood after seeing that Stryfe bitch."

Knives was right. Seeing Meryl had always put a damper on his libido for a while. He suspected it had much to do with the fact Meryl still loved him. Vash just couldn't bear the betrayed, sad look in her eyes whenever she looked at him. It made him feel guilty. It made him feel ashamed of his attachment to Knives - but not today. Today, he only felt... elated.

"Meryl said she's seeing some other guy," Vash murmured, the feeling of relief expanding in his chest. "I guess she's finally moved on."

"Then she's an idiot."

"What? Why?"

"She'll never find anyone who could stand comparison to you. She'll never come even close."

Amused, Vash rolled on top of his twin and pinned him to the ground. "I'm flattered. But you should stop to consider Meryl's circumstances. She's getting older and older every year. Soon, she'll be so old she can't get children. If she continues clinging onto me, she'll never have a family. She has finally understood it's better to give up. You can't always have the person you want, you see."

"...actually, I don't. I always get the person I want." Knives huffed. "Granted, it took me over a hundred years, but now you're here. I didn't give up on you. That's one serious weakness in humans; they give up too easily."

"Too easily? You must realize; even if she had lived up to your abnormal moral standards and never given up on me, she still wouldn't have been able to have me. I was already yours. She saw no way through _that _obstacle. Or maybe you would've been willing to lend me to her for a few decades, if she had shown true persistence?"

Knives looked indignant, almost furious at the prospect. "What? I would _never - - !_"

Vash closed the gap between their lips and kissed him. "I know."

Both men stared into each other's eyes. It elicited a strange feeling, like they were drowning in their own souls. Shuddering, Vash inhaled Knives' scent and nuzzled his cheek, wondering if his brother was now ready to accept his advances. "I really am in the mood, you know," he spoke softly into his twin's ear while rocking back and forth, his trouser-clad erection pressing into Knives' bare thigh. "I'd love to be buried deep in your arse."

Knives let out a small moan, before looking extremely put out. "As if I'm that easy!"

"Believe me when I say, you're anything except easy. In fact, you're positively the most difficult person I've ever had to handle."

"Well," Knives said, looking oddly pleased and proud of himself, "_someone _needs to give you some challenge in life."

Grinning from ear to ear, Vash opened the fly of his trousers, releasing his heavy cock. Then he pushed Knives kilt up and positioned himself in between his twins legs. Before Knives could protest, two of his fingers had entered Knives' tight hole and curled against the sweet spot inside. Knives arched his back and gasped.

"You give me your best challenge, then," Vash murmured in his brothers ear. "And I'll give you some real love."

* * *

The evening had turned into small hours when Vash woke up. He was laying half on top of his still sleeping brother. The first thing he became aware of was the feel of total bliss; both his body and mind were completely relaxed and satisfied - just like every other time he intertwined his energy with Knives'. He inhaled deep and smiled against the warm neck just under his lips. He loved his twin's unique scent; that scent would probably be disgusting to a human being, but to Vash it was like aphrodisiac: a mixture of hot iron, desert sand and blood.

Howling wind caught on his hair, tousling it with its hard, powerful touch. He lifted his head and looked around; a storm had just passed them, and was now calming down. It hadn't rained; instead, there was the smell of hot desert in the air. Not for the first time, Vash was grateful of the Eden's lush trees that had caught most of the flying sand.

Vash sharpened his gaze as it landed on some bushes of wild, red geraniums, waving in the wind, cloaked by the night's darkness.

Images began to float through his mind and he closed his eyes. Beautiful, bright, spectral images from his early childhood, from the days he had shared with his brother and... what had been her name again? She had been so sweet, with long black hair and kind eyes, with ever-smiling lips. She had loved him very much; she had devoted her very life to protect him. She had been very special. And Vash had loved her too, so, so much; he had looked up to her, idolized her, even worshipped her. And Knives... Knives had hated her. Knives had hated her so very, very much. And she was dead now - had been for over a century. But what had been her name? Hadn't he just remembered her name? Vash felt coldness sweep over him.

_ ...how could he have forgotten her name?_

_'Rem.' _Knives' voice echoed gently in his head, like a whisper of his own heart. _'She was Rem. Rem Saverem.'_

Scrunching up his nose, Vash squeezed his brother's forearm, his nails digging into the warm skin, probably leaving crescent-shaped marks. _'R-Rem...' _

_'She was the first and last human being I didn't want to kill, you know. I didn't want her to die, not her. But she still chose to do so. On her own.' _

Vash felt suddenly extremely agitated - and in the very next second he felt completely calm again. Knives' amazingly strong and unadulterated energy soared through him in a steady stream and he tasted it, inhaled it, swallowed it, and bathed in it. He was like a new person now. He was someone who was finally able to look forward. He was someone who was finally able to forgive. Even _her_ death.

_'She was... pure in her heart,' _Knives silently continued, slowly running his fingers through Vash's long, sensitive hair._ 'She was a beautiful flower amongst the ugly spiders. And now... because she is dead... she will forever stay that way. A flower.'_

Vash felt his heart constrict with pain - but then everything seemed to become clear to him, and he began to smile. He saw it clearly now: Rem walked towards him with open arms, her image flickering fragmentarily like that of a ghost before his eyes. Her midnight hair was sparkling with hues of gold in the celestial sunshine that was surrounding her in the eternal paradise her soul was now living in; hundreds of white butterflies danced around her, landing on her bosom and the long, swirling hems of her geranium red dress. There was no hate, no sorrow, no regret in the depths of her hazel-brown eyes as he bent to kiss Vash's forehead. Vash sank into her loving embrace and pressed his face against her warm chest, twining his fingers into her soft, silky tresses.

Then, like mountain mist would fade away in the face of the planet's two mercilessly scorching suns, her image disappeared into thin air, leaving behind only a short, gentle sigh.

Vash opened his eyes and looked down at his brother. His beautiful Millions Knives, who was like one of those two scorching suns in his insurmountable power and his likewise unbeatable selfishness.

"You know," he sighed. "Sometimes I'd really like to be able to kill you."

The wind howled, and the geraniums around them rustled.

"Yes," was the quiet, yet calm and satisfied reply. "I know."

Vash smiled and slowly lay back in his brother's strong arms. Finally... _finally... _everything was perfectly alright.

* * *

_So...__ On the eighth morning, a song from somewhere reaches my ears._

_A song that has recorded everything_

_echoes to the new sky._

_Sound__ life._

* * *

**The End**_  
_


End file.
